Hi 


(HHRL6S 


J 

J 


LIBRARY 


OF 

CALIFORNIA 
SANTA  CRUZ 


Ps 


?7 
sat 


BOOKS  BY 


IN  THE  TENNESSEE   MOUNTAINS.     Short  Sto- 
ries.    iGmo,  $1.25. 

DOWN   THE    RAVINE.     A  Story  for  Young  People. 
Illustrated.     i6mo,  $1.00. 

THE  PROPHET  OF  THE  GREAT  SMOKY  MOUN- 
TAINS.    A  Novel.    $1.25. 

HOUGHTON,  MIFFLIN  &  CO. 

Publishers, 
4  PARK  STREET,  BOSTON. 


THE    PROPHET 


OF  THE 


-/GREAT   SMOKY   MOUNTAINS 


BY 


CHARLES  EGBERT  CRADDOCK> 

flam   Noaillc 


ELEVENTH   THOUSAND 


BOSTON   AND   NEW   YORK 
HOUGHTON,  MIFFLIN  AND  COMPANY 

Camfcri&0e 
1886 


Copyright,  1885, 
BY  MARY  N.  MURFREE. 

All  rights  reserved. 


The  Riverside  Press,  Cambridge: 
Electrotyped  and  Printed  by  H.  0.  Houghton  &  0<v 


THE  PROPHET 

OP  THE 

GREAT  SMOKY  MOUNTAINS. 


^  ALWAYS  enwrapped  in  the  illusory  mists,  al- 
ways touching  the  evasive  clouds,  the  peaks  of 
the  Great  Smoky  Mountains  are  like  some  bar- 
ren ideal,  that  has  bartered  for  the  vague  isola- 
tions of  a  higher  atmosphere  the  material  values 
of  the  warm  world  below.  Upon  those  mighty 
and  majestic  domes  no  tree  strikes  root,  no 
hearth  is  alight ;  humanity  is  an  alien  thing, 
and  utility  set  at  naught.  Below,  dense  forests 
cover  the  massive,  precipitous  slopes  of  the 
range,  and  in  the  midst  of  the  wilderness  a 
clearing  shows,  here  and  there,  and  the  roof  of 
a  humble  log  cabin ;  in  the  valley,  far,  far  lower 
still,  a  red  spark  at  dusk  may  suggest  a  home, 
nestling  in  the  cove.  Grain  grows  apace  in 
these  scanty  clearings,  for  the  soil  in  certain  fa- 
vored spots  is  mellow;  and  the  weeds  grow, 
too,  and  in  a  wet  season  the  ploughs  are  fain  to 
1 


2  THE  PROPHET  OF  THE 

be  active.  They  are  of  the  bull-tongue  variety, 
and  are  sometimes  drawn  by  oxen.  As  often 
as  otherwise  they  are  followed  by  women. 

In  the  gracious  June  mornings,  when  winds 
are  astir  and  wings  are  awhirl  in  the  wide 
spaces  of  the  sunlit  air,  the  work  seemed  no 
hardship  to  Dorinda  Cayce,  —  least  of  all  one 
day  when  another  plough  ran  parallel  to  the 
furrows  of  her  own,  and  a  loud,  drawling,  inter- 
mittent conversation  became  practicable.  She 
paused  often,  and  looked  idly  about  her  :  some- 
times at  the  distant  mountains,  blue  and  misty, 
against  the  indefinite  horizon  ;  sometimes  down 
at  the  cool,  dense  shadows  of  the  wooded  valley, 

far  below  the  precipice,  to  which  the  steep 
clearing  shelved ;  sometimes  at  the  little  log 
cabin  on  the  slope  above,  sheltered  by  a  beetling 
crag  and  shadowed  by  the  pines;  sometimes 
still  higher  at  the  great  ubald"  of  the  moun- 
tain, and  its  mingled  phantasmagoria  of  shifting 
clouds  and  flickering  sheen  and  glimmering 
peak. 

"  He  'lowed  ter  me,"  she  said,  suddenly,  "  ez 
he  hev  been  gin  ter  view  strange  sights  a  many 
a  time  in  them  fogs,  an'  sech." 

The  eyes  lifted  to  the  shivering  vapors  might 
never  have  reflected  aught  but  a  tropical  sun- 
shine, so  warm,  so  bright,  so  languorously  calm 
were  they.  She  turned  them  presently  upon  a 


GREAT  SMOKY  MOUNTAINS.  3 

young  man,  who  was  ploughing  with  a  horse 
close  by,  and  who  also  came  to  a  meditative  halt 
in  the  turn-row.  He  too  was  of  intermittent 
conversational  tendencies,  and  between  them  it 
might  be  marveled  that  so  many  furrows  were 
already  run.  He  wore  a  wide-brimmed  brown 
wool  hat,  set  far  back  upon  his  head ;  a  mass 
of  straight  yellow  hair  hung  down  to  the  col- 
lar of  his  brown  jeans  coat.  His  brown  eyes 
were  slow  and  contemplative.  The  corn  was 
knee-high,  and  hid  the  great  boots  drawn  over 
his  trousers.  As  he  moved  there  sounded  the 
unexpected  jingle  of  spurs.  He  looked,  with 
the  stolid,  lack-lustre  expression  of  the  moun- 
taineer, at  the  girl,  who  continued,  as  she  leaned 
lightly  on  the  plough-handles :  — 

"  I  'lowed  ter  him  ez  mebbe  he  hed  drempt 
them  visions.  I  knows  I  hev  thunk  some  toler'- 
ble  cur'ous  thoughts  myself,  ef  I  war  tired  an' 
sleepin'  hard.  But  he  said  he  reckoned  I  hed 
drempt  no  sech  dreams  ez  his'n.  I  can't  holp 
sorrowin'  fur  him  some.  He  'lowed  ez  Satan 
hev  hunted  him  like  a  pa'tridge  on  the  moun- 
ting." 

The  young  man's  eyes  dropped  with  sudden 
significance  upon  his  plough-handles.  A  pair 
of  pistols  in  their  leather  cases  swung  incongru- 
ously there.  They  gave  a  caustic  suggestion  of 
human  adversaries  as  fierce  as  the  moral  pur- 


4  THE  PROPHET  OF  THE 

suit  of  the  Principle  of  Evil,  and  the  girl's  face 
fell.  In  absence  of  mind  she  recommenced  her 
work. 

"  Waal,"  she  gently  drawled,  as  the  old  ox 
languidly  started  down  the  row,  "'pears  like 
ter  me  ez  it  ain't  goin'  ter  be  no  differ,  nohow ; 
it  won't  hender  ye  none." 

Her  face  was  grave,  but  there  was  a  smile  in 
her  eyes,  which  had  the  lustre  and  depth  of  a 
sapphire,  and  a  lambent  glow  like  the  heart  of 
a  blue  flame.  They  were  fringed  by  long,  black 
lashes,  and  her  hair  was  black,  also.  Her  pink 
calico  sun-bonnet,  flaring  toward  the  front, 
showed  it  lying  in  moist  tendrils  on  her  brow, 
and  cast  an  unwonted  roseate  tint  upon  the 
clear,  healthful  pallor  of  her  complexion.  She 
wore  a  dark  blue  homespun  dress,  and,  despite 
her  coarse  garb  and  uncouth  occupation  and  the 
gaunt  old  ox,  there  was  something  impressive 
in  her  simple  beauty,  her  youth,  and  her  elastic 
vigor.  As  she  drove  the  ploughshare  into  the 
mould  she  might  have  seemed  tho^-type  of  a 
young  civilization,  —  so  fine  a  thing  it*  itself,  so 
roughly  accoutred. 

When  she  came  down  the  slope  again,  facing 
him,   the  pink  curtain  of   her  bonnet  waving 
about  her  shoulders,  her  blue  skirts  fluttering 
among  the  blades  of  corn,  a  winged  shaded 
sweeping  along  as  if  attendant  upon  her,  while 


GREAT  SMOKY  MOUNTAINS.  5 

a  dove  flew  high  above  to  its  nest  in  the  pines, 
he  raised  his  hand  with  an  imperative  gesture, 
and  she  paused  obediently.  He  had  flushed 
deeply;  the  smouldering  fire  in  his  eyes  was 
kindling.  He  leaned  across  the  few  rows  of 
corn  that  stood  between  them. 

"  I  hev  a  word  ter  ax  right  now.  Who  air 
under  conviction  hyar  ?  "  he  demanded. 

She  seemed  a  trifle  startled.  Her  grasp 
shifted  uncertainly  on  the  plough-handles,  and 
the  old  ox,  accustomed  to  rest  only  at  the  turn- 
row,  mistook  her  intention,  and  started  off.  She 
stopped  him  with  some  difficulty,  and  then, 
"  Convicted  of  sin  ?  "  she  asked,  in  a  voice  that 
showed  her  appreciation  of  the  solemnity  of  the 
subject. 

"  I  hev  said  it,"  the  young  man  declared,  with 
a  half-suppressed  irritation  which  confused  her. 

She  remained  silent. 

"  Mebbe  it  air  yer  granny,"  he  suggested, 
with  a  sneer. 

She  recoiled,  with  palpable  surprise.  "  Granny 
made  her  peace  fifty  year  ago,"  she  declared, 
with  pride  in  this  anciently  acquired  grace,  — 
"  fifty  year  an'  better." 

"The  boys  air  convicted,  then?"  he  asked, 
still  leaning  over  the  corn  and  still  sneering. 

"  The  boys  hev  got  thar  religion,  too,"  she 
faltered,  looking  at  him  with  wide  eyes,  bril- 


6  THE  PROPHET  OF   THE 

liant  with  astonishment,  and  yet  a  trifle  dis- 
mayed. Suddenly,  she  threw  herself  into  her 
wonted  confiding  attitude,  leaning  upon  her 
plough-handles,  and  with  an  appealing  glance 
began  an  extenuation  of  her  spiritual  poverty : 
"  'Pears  like  ez  I  hev  never  hed  a  call  ter  tell 
you-uns  afore  ez  I  hev  hed  no  time  yit  ter  git 
my  religion.  Granny  bein'  old,  an'  the  boys  at 
the  still,  I  hev  hed  ter  spin,  an'  weave,  an'  cook, 
an'  sew,  an'  plough  some,  —  the  boys  bein' 
mos'ly  at  the  still.  An'  then,  thar  be  Mirandy 
Jane,  my  brother  Ab's  darter,  ez  I  hev  hed  ter 
1'arn  how  ter  cook  vittles.  When  I  went  down* 
yander  ter  my  aunt  Jerushy's  house  in  Tucka- 
leechee  Cove,  ter  holp  her  some  with  weavin', 
I  war  plumb  cur'ous  ter  know  how  Mirandy 
Jane  would  make  out  whilst  I  war  gone.  They 
'lowed  ez  she  hed  cooked  the  vittles  toler'ble, 
but  ef  she  had  washed  a  skillet  or  a  platter  in 
them  three  days  /  could  n't  find  it." 

Her  tone  was  stern ;  all  the  outraged  house- 
keeper was  astir  within  her. 

He  said  nothing,  and  she  presently  continued 
discursively,  still  leaning  on  the  plough-handles : 
"I  never  stayed  away  but  them  three  days. 
I  war  n't  sati'fied  in  my  mind,  nohow,  whilst 
I  bided  down  thar  in  Tuckaleechee  Cove.  I 
hankered  cornsider'ble  arter  the  baby.  He  air 
three  year  old  now,  an'  I  hev  keered  fur  him 


GREAT  SMOKY  MOUNTAINS.  7 

ever  sence  his  mother  died,  —  my  brother  Ab's 
wife,  ye  know,  —  two  year  ago  an'  better.  They 
hed  fedded  him  toler'ble  whilst  I  war  away,  an' 
I  fund  him  fat  ez  common.  But  they  hed  crost 
him  somehows,  an'  he  war  ailin'  in  his  temper 
when  I  got  home,  an'  hed  ter  hev  cornsider'ble 
coddlinY' 

She  paused  before  the  rising  anger  in  his 
eyes. 

"  Why  air  Mirandy  Jane  called  ter  1'arn  how 
ter  cook  vittles  ?  "  he  demanded,  irrelevantly,  it 
might  have  seemed. 

She  looked  at  him  in  deprecating  surprise. 
Yet  she  turned  at  bay. 

"  I  hev  never  hearn  ez  ye  war  convicted  yer- 
self,  Rick  Tyler  !  "  she  said,  tartly.  "  Ye  war 
never  so  much  ez  seen  a-scoutin'  round  the 
mourner's  bench.  Ef  I  hev  got  no  religion,  ye 
hev  got  none,  nuther." 

"Ye  air  minded  ter  git  married,  D'rindy 
Cayce,"  he  said,  severely,  solving  his  own  prob- 
lem, "an'  that's  why  Mirandy  Jane  hev  got 
ter  be  1'arned  ter  take  yer  place  at  home." 

He  produced  this  as  if  it  were  an  accusation. 

She  drew  back,  indignant  and  affronted,  and 
with  a  rigid  air  of  offended  propriety.  "  I  hev 
no  call  ter  spen'  words  'bout  sech  ez  that,  with 
a  free-spoken  man  like  you-uns,"  she  staidly  as- 
severated ;  and  then  she  was  about  to  move  on. 


8  THE  PROPHET   OF  THE 

Accepting  her  view  of  the  gross  unseemliness 
of  his  mention  of  the  subject,  the  young  fel- 
low's anger  gave  way  to  contrition.  "  Waal, 
D'rindy,"  he  said,  in  an  eager,  apologetic  tone, 
"  I  hev  seen  that  critter,  that  thar  preacher, 
a-hangin'  round  you-uns's  house  a  powerful  deal 
lately,  whilst  I  hev  been  obleeged  ter  hide  out 
in  the  woods.  An'  bein'  ez  nobody  thar  owns 
up  ter  needin'  religion  but  ye,  I  reckoned  he 
war  a-tryin'  ter  git  ye  ter  take  him  an'  grace 
tergether.  That  man  hev  got  his  mouth  stuffed 
chock  full  o'  words,  —  more  'n  enny  other  man 
I  ever  see,"  he  added,  with  an  expression  of 
deep  disgust. 

Dorinda  might  be  thought  to  abuse  her  op- 
portunities. "  He  ain't  study  in'  'bout'n  me,  no 
more  'n  I  be  'bout'n  him,"  she  said,  with  scant 
relish  for  the  spectacle  of  Rick  Tyler's  jeal- 
ousy. "  Pa'son  Kelsey  jes'  stops  thar  ter  the 
house  ter  rest  his  bones  awhile,  arter  he  comes 
down  off'n  the  bald,  whar  he  goes  ter  pray." 

"  In  £he  name  o'  reason,"  exclaimed  the 
young  fellow  petulantly,  "  why  can't  he  pray 
somewhar  else  ?  A  man  ez  hev  got  ter  h'ist 
hisself  on  the  bald  of  a  mounting  ten  mile  high 
—  except  what 's  lackin'  —  ter  git  a  purchase  on 
prayer  hain't  got  no  religion  wuth  talkin'  'bout. 
Sinner  ez  I  am,  I  kin  pray  in  the  valley  —  way 
down  yander  in  Tuckaleechee  Cove  —  ez  peart 


GREAT  SMOKY  MOUNTAINS.  9 

ez  on  enny  bald  in  the  Big  Smoky.  That  crit- 
ter air  a  powerful  aggervatin'  contrivance." 

Her  eyes  still  shone  upon  him.  "  'Pears  like 
ter  me  ez  it  air  no  differ,  nohow,"  she  said, 
with  her  consolatory  cadence.  As  she  again 
started  down  the  row,  she  added,  glancing  over 
her  shoulder  and  relenting  even  to  explana- 
tion, "  'T  war  granny's  word  ez  Mirandy  Jane 
hed  ter  be  Famed  ter  cook  an'  sech.  She  air 
risin'  thirteen  now,  an'  air  toler'ble  bouncin' 
an'  spry,  an'  oughter  be  some  use,  ef  ever. 
An'  she  mought  marry  when  she  gits  fairly 
grown,  an',"  pausing  in  the  turn-row  for  argu- 
ment, and  looking  with  earnest  eyes  at  him,  as 
he  still  stood  in  the  midst  of  the  waving  corn, 
idly  holding  his  plough-handles,  where  the  pis- 
tols swung,  "-  ef  she  did  marry,  'pears  like  ter 
me  ez  she  would  be  mightily  faulted  ef  she 
couldn't  cook  tasty." 

There  was  no  reasonable  doubt  of  this  propo- 
sition, but  it  failed  to  convince,  and  in  miser- 
able cogitation  he  completed  another  furrow, 
and  met  her  at  the  turn-row. 

"  I  s'pose  ez  Pa'son  Kelsey  an'  yer  granny 
air  powerful  sociable  an'  frien'ly,"  he  hazarded, 
as  they  stood  together. 

"  I  dunno  ez  them  two  air  partic'lar  frien'ly. 
Pa'son  Kelsey  air  in  no  wise  a  sociable  critter," 
said  Dorinda,  with  a  discriminating  air.  "  He 


10  THE  PROPHET  OF  THE 

ain't  like  Brother  Jake  Tobin,  —  though  it 
'pears  like  ter  me  ez  his  gift  in  prayer  air 
manifested  more  survigrus,  ef  ennything."  She 
submitted  this  diffidently.  Having  no  religion, 
she  felt  incompetent  to  judge  of  such  matters. 
"  'Pears  like  ter  me  ez  Pa' son  Kelsey  air  more 
like  'Lijah  an'  'Lisha,  an'  them  men,  what  he 
talks  about  cornsider'ble,  an'  goes  out  ter  meet 
on  the  bald." 

"  He  don't  meet  them  men  on  the  bald ;  they 
air  dead,"  said  Rick  Tyler,  abruptly. 

She  looked  at  him  in  shocked  surprise. 

"  That 's  jes'  his  addling  way  o'  talkin',"  con- 
tinued the  young  fellow.  "  He  don't  mean  fur 
true  more  'n  haffen  what  he  say.  He  'lows  ez 
he  meets  the  sperits  o'  them  men  on  the  bald." 

Once  more  she  lifted  her  bright  eyes  to  the 
shivering  vapors,  —  vague,  mysterious,  veiling 
in  solemn  silence  the  barren,  awful  heights. 

An  extreme  gravity  had  fallen  upon  her 
face.  "  Did  they  live  in  thar  life-time  up  hyar 
in  the  Big  Smoky,  or  in  the  valley  kentry  ? " 
she  asked,  in  a  lowered  voice. 

"  I  ain't  sure  'bout'n  that,"  he  replied,  indif- 
ferently. 

"'Crost  the  line  in  the  old  North  State?" 
she  hazarded,  exhausting  her  knowledge  of  the 
habitable  globe. 

"  I  hearn  him  read  'bout'n  it  wunst,  but  I 
f  urgits*  now." 


GREAT  SMOKY  MOUNTAINS.  11 

Still  her  reverent,  beautiful  eyes,  full  of  the 
dreamy  sunshine,  were  lifted  to  the  peak.  "  It 
must  hev  been  in  the  Big  Smoky  Mountings 
they  lived,"  she  said,  with  eager  credulity,  "  fur 
he  tole  me  ez  the  word  an'  the  prophets  holped 
him  when  Satan  kem  a-huntin'  of  him  like  a 
pa'tridge  on  the  mounting." 

The  young  fellow  turned  away,  with  a  ges- 
ture of  angry  impatience. 

"  Ef  he  hed  ever  hed  the  State  o'  Tennessee 
a-huntin'  of  him  he  would  n't  be  so  feared  o' 
Satan.  Ef  thar  war  a  warrant  fur  him  in  the 
sher'ff's  pocket,  an'  the  gran'  jury's  true  bill  fur 
murder  lyin'  agin  him  yander  at  Shaftesville, 
an'  the  gov'nor's  reward,  two  hunderd  dollars 
blood  money,  on  him,  he  would  n't  be  a-hum  pin' 
his  bones  round  hyar  so  peart,  a-shakin'  in  his 
shoes  fur  the  fear  o'  Satan."  He  laughed,  —  a 
caustic,  jeering  laugh.  "  Satan  's  mighty  ac- 
tive, cornsiderin'  his  age,  but  I  'd  be  willin' 
ter  pit  the  State  o'  Tennessee  agin  him  when 
it  kem  ter  huntin'  of  folks  like  a  pa'tridge." 

The  sunshine  in  the  girl's  eyes  was  clouded. 
They  had  filled  with  tears.  Still  leaning  on 
the  plough-handles,  she  looked  at  him,  with 
suddenly  crimson  cheeks  and  quivering  lips. 
"  I  dunno  how  the  State  o'  Tennessee  kin  git 
its  own  cornsent  ter  be  so  mean  an'  wicked  ez 
it  air,"  she  said,  his  helpless  little  partisan. 


12  THE  PROPHET  OF  THE 

Despite  their  futility,  her  words  comforted 
him.  "An'  I  hev  done  nuthin',  nohow ! "  he 
cried  out,  in  shrill  self-justification.  "  I  could 
no  more  hender  'Bednego  Tynes  from  shootin' 
Joel  Byers  down  in  his  own  door  'n  nuthin'  in  this 
worl'.  I  never  even  knowed  they  hed  a  grudge. 
'Bednego  Tynes,  he  tole  me  ez  he  owed  Joel  a 
debt,  an'  war  goin'  ter  see  him  'bout'n  it,  an* 
wanted  somebody  along  ter  hear  his  word  an' 
see  jestice  done  'twixt  'em.  Thar  air  fowor 
Byers  boys,  an'  I  reckon  he  war  feared  they 
would  all  jump  on  him  at  wunst,  an'  he  wanted 
me  ter  holp  him  ef  they  did.  An'  I  went  along 
'like  a  fool  sheep,  thinkin'  'bout  nuthin'.  An' 
when  we  got  way  down  yander  in  Eskaqua 
Cove,  whar  Joel  Byers's  house  air,  he  gin  a 
hello  at  the  fence,  an'  Joel  kem  ter  the  door. 
An'  'Bednego  whipped  up  his  rifle  suddint  an* 
shot  him  through  the  head,  ez  nip  an'  percise ! 
An'  thar  stood  Joel's  wife,  seein'  it  all.  An* 
'Bednego  run  off,  nimble,  I  tell  ye,  an'  I  war 
so  flustrated  I  run,  too.  Somebody  cotched 
'Bednego  in  the  old  North  State  the  nex'  week, 
an'  the  gov'nor  hed  ter  send  a  requisition  arter 
him.  But  sence  I  fund  out  ez  they  'lowed  I 
war  aidin'  an'  abettin'  'Bednego,  an'  war  goin' 
ter  arrest  me  'kase  I  war  thar  at  the  killin', 
they  hev  hed  powerful  little  chance  o'  tryin' 
me  in  the  court.  An'  whilst  the  gov'nor  hed 


GREAT  SMOKY  MOUNTAINS.  13 

his  hand  in,  he  offered  a  reward  fur  sech  a  law- 
less man  ez  I  be." 

He  broke  off,  visibly  struggling  for  compos- 
ure ;  then  he  recommenced  in  increasing  indig- 
nation :  "  An'  these  hyar  frien's  o'  mine  in  the 
Big  Smoky,  I  '11  be  bound  they  hanker  pow- 
erful arter  them  two  hunderd  dollars  blood 
money.  I  know  ez  I  'd  hev  been  tuk  afore  this, 
ef  it  war  n't  fur  them  consarns  thar."  He  nod- 
ded frowningly  at  the  pistols.  "  Them  's  the 
only  frien's  I  hev  got." 

The  girl's  voice  trembled.  "  'Pears  like  ye 
mought  count  me  in,"  she  said,  reproachfully. 

"  Naw,"  he  retorted,  sternly,  "  ye  go  round  •%.. 
hyar  sorrowin'  fur  a  man  ez  hev  got  nuthin'  ter 
be  afeard  of  but  the  devil." 

She  made  no  reply,  and  her  meekness  molli- 
fied him. 

"  D'rindy,"  he  said,  in  an  altered  tone,  and 
with  the  pathos  of  a  keen  despair,  "  I  hed  fixed 
it  in  my  mind  a  good  while  ago,  when  I  could 
hev  hed  a  house,  an'  lived  like  folks,  stiddier 
like  a  wolf  in  the  woods,  ter  ax  ye  ter  marry 
me;  but  I  war  hendered  by  gittin'  skeered 
'bout'n  yer  bein'  all  in  favor  o'  Amos  Jeemes, 
ez  kem  up  ter  see  ye  from  Eskaqua  Cove,  an'  I 
did  n't  want  ter  git  turned  off.  Mebbe  ef  I  hed 
axed  ye  then  I  would  n't  hev  tuk  ter  goin'  along 
o'  Abednego  Tyues  an'  sech,  an'  the  killin'  o' 


14  THE  PROPHET  OF  THE 

Joel   would  n't    hev   happened    like   it   done. 
Would  ye  —  would  ye  hev  married  me  then  ?  " 

Her  eyes  flashed.  "  Ye  air  fairly  sodden 
with  foolishness,  Rick  !  "  she  exclaimed,  angrily. 
"  Air  you-uns  thinkin'  ez  I  '11  'low  ezx  I  would 
hev  married  a  man  four  month  ago  ez  never 
axed  me  ter  marry,  nohow  ?  "  Then,  with  an 
appreciation  of  the  delicacy  of  the  position  and 
a  conservation  of  mutual  pride,  she  added, 
"  An'  I  won't  say  nuther  ez  I  would  tit  marry 
a  man  ez  hev  never  axed  me  ter  marry,  no- 
how." 

Somehow,  the  contrariety  of  the  proprieties, 
as  she  translated  them,  bewildered  and  baffled 
him.  Even  had  he  been  looking  at  her  he 
might  hardly  have  interpreted,  with  his  blunt 
perceptions,  the  dewy  wistfulness  of  the  eyes 
which  she  bent  upon  him.  The  word  might 
promise  nothing  now.  Still  she  would  have 
valued  it.  He  did  not  speak  it.  His  eyes 
were  fixed  on  Chilhowee  Mountain,  rising  up, 
massive  and  splendid,  against  the  west.  The 
shadows  of  the  clouds  flecked  the  pure  and  per- 
fect blue  of  the  sunny  slopes  with  a  dusky  mot- 
tling of  purple.  The  denser  shade  in  the  val- 
ley had  shifted,  and  one  might  know  by  this 
how  the  day  wore  on.  The  dew  had  dried  from 
the  long,  keen  blades  of  the  Indian  corn ;  the 
grasshoppers  droned  among  them.  A  lizard 


GREAT  SMOKY  MOUNTAINS.  15 

basked  on  a  flat,  white  stone  hard  by.  The  old 
ox  dozed  in  the  turn-row. 

Suddenly  Rick  Tyler  lifted  his  hand,  with 
an  intent  gesture  and  a  dilated  eye.  There 
came  from  far  below,  on  the  mountain  road,  the 
sound  of  a  horse's  hoof  striking  on  a  stone, 
again,  and  yet  again.  A  faint  metallic  jingle 
—  the  air  was  so  still  now — suggested  spurs. 
The  girl's  hand  trembled  violently  as  she 
stepped  swiftly  to  his  horse  and  took  off  the 
plough-gear.  He  had  caught  up  a  saddle  that 
was  lying  in  the  turn-row,  and  as  hastily 
buckled  the  girth  about  the  animal. 

"  Ef  that  air  ennybody  a-hankerin'  ter  see 
me,  don't  you-uns  be  a-denyin'  ez  I  hev  been 
hyar,  D'rindy,"  he  said,  as  he  put  his  foot  in 
the  stirrup.  "  I  reckon  they  hev  fund  out  by 
now  ez  I  be  in  the  kentry  round  about.  But 
keep  'em  hyar  ez  long  ez  ye  kin,  ter  gin  me  a 
start." 

He  mounted  his  horse,  and  rode  noiselessly 
away  along  the  newly  turned  mould  of  the  fur- 
row. 

She  stood  leaning  upon  her  plough-handles, 
and  silently  watching  him.  His  equestrian 
figure,  darkly  outlined  against  the  far  blue 
mountains  and  the  intermediate  valley,  seemed 
of  heroic  size  against  the  landscape,  which  was 
reduced  by  the  distance  to  the  minimum  of 


16  THE  PROPHET  OF  THE 

proportion.  The  deep  shadows  of  the  woods, 
encompassing  the  clearing,  fell  upon  him  pres- 
ently, and  he,  too,  was  but  a  shadow  in  the 
dusky  monochrome  of  the  limited  vista.  The 
dense  laurel  closed  about  him,  and  his  mountain 
fastnesses,  that  had  befriended  him  of  yore, 
received  him  once  again. 

Then  up  and  down  the  furrows  Dorinda  me- 
chanically followed  the  plough,  her  pulses 
throbbing,  every  nerve  tense,  every  faculty 
alert.  She  winced  when  she  heard  the  fre- 
quent striking  of  hoofs  upon  the  rocky  slopes 
of  the  road  below.  She  was  instantly  aware 
when  they  were  silent  and  the  party  had 
stopped  to  breathe  the  horses.  She  began  ac- 
curately to  gauge  their  slow  progress. 

"  'T  ain't  airish  in  no  wise  ter-day,"  she  said, 
glancing  about  at  the  still,  noontide  landscape ; 
4 'an'  ef  them  air  valley  cattle  they  mus'  git 
blowed  mightily  travelin'  up  sech  steep  moun- 
tings ez  the  Big  Smoky."  She  checked  her 
self-gratulation.  "  Though  I  ain't  wantin'  ter 
gloat  on  the  beastis'  misery,  nuther,"  she  stip- 
ulated. 

She  paused  presently  at  the  lower  end  of  the 
clearing,  and  looked  down  over  the  precipice, 
that  presented  a  sheer  sandstone  cliff  on  one 
side,  and  on  the  other  a  wild  confusion  of  splin- 
tered and  creviced  rocks,  where  the  wild  rose 


GREAT  SMOKY  MOUNTAINS.  17 

bloomed  in  the  niches  and  the  grape-vine  swung. 
The  beech-trees  on  the  slope  below  conserved 
beneath  their  dense,  umbrageous  branches  a 
tender,  green  twilight.  Loitering  along  in  a 
gleaming  silver  thread  by  the  roadside  was  a 
mountain  rill,  hardly  gurgling  even  when  with 
slight  and  primitive  shift  it  was  led  into  a  hol- 
low and  mossy  log,  that  it  might  aggregate  suf- 
ficient volume  in  the  dry  season  to  water  the 
horse  of  the  chance  wayfarer. 

The  first  stranger  that  rode  into  this  shadowy 
nook  took  off  a  large  straw  hat  and  bared  his 
brow  to  the  refreshing  coolness.  His  grizzled 
hair  stood  up  in  front  after  the  manner  denom- 
inated "  a  roach."  His  temples  were  deeply 
suaken,  and  his  strongly  marked  face  was  long 
and  singularly  lean.  He  held  it  forward,  as  if 
he  were  snuffing  the  air.  He  had  a  massive 
and  powerful  frame,  with  not  an  ounce  of  super- 
fluous flesh,  and  he  looked  like  a  hound  in  the 
midst  of  the  hunting  season. 

It  served  to  quiet  Dorinda's  quivering  nerves 
when  he  leisurely  rode  his  big  gray  horse  up  to 
the  trough,  and  dropped  the  rein  that  the  ani- 
mal might  drink.  If  he  were  in  pursuit  he  evi- 
dently had  no  idea  how  close  he  had  pressed  the 
fugitive.  He  was  joined  there  by  the  other 
members  of  the  party,  six  or  eight  in  number, 
and  presently  a  stentorian  voice  broke  upon  the 
2 


18  THE  PROPHET  OF  THE 

air.  "  Hello !  Hello !  "  he  shouted,  hailing  the 
log  cabin. 

Mirandy  Jane,  a  slim,  long-legged,  filly-like 
girl  of  thirteen,  with  a  tangled  black  mane,  the 
forelock  hanging  over  her  wild,  prominent  eyes, 
had  at  that  moment  appeared  on  the  porch. 
She  paused,  and  stared  at  the  strangers  with 
vivacious  surprise.  Then,  taking  sudden  fright, 
she  fled  precipitately,  with  as  much  attendant 
confusion  of  pattering  footfalls,  flying  mane, 
and  excited  snorts  and  gasps  as  if  she  were  a 
troop  of  wild  horses. 

"  Granny  !  Granny !  "  she  exclaimed  to  the 
old  crone  in  the  chimney  corner,  "  thar  's  a  man 
on  a  big  gray  critter  down  at  the  trough,  an'  I 
ain't  s'prised  none  ef  he  air  a  raider !  " 

The  hail  of  the  intruders  was  regarded  as  a 
challenge  by  some  fifteen  or  twenty  hounds  that 
suddenly  materialized  among  the  bee-hives  and 
the  althea  bushes,  and  from  behind  the  ash-hop- 
per and  the  hen-house  and  the  rain-barrel. 
From  under  the  cabin  two  huge  curs  came, 
their  activity  impeded  by  the  blocks  and  chains 
they  drew.  These  were  silent,  while  the  others 
yelped  vociferously,  and  climbed  over  the  fence, 
and  dashed  down  the  road. 

The  horses  pricked  up  their  ears,  and  the 
leader  of  the  party  awaited  the  onslaught  with 
a  pistol  in  his  hand. 


GREAT  SMOKY  MOUNTAINS.  19 

The  old  woman,  glancing  out  of  the  window, 
observed  this  demonstration. 

"He'll  kill  one  o'  our  dogs  with  that  thar 
shootin'-iron  o'  his'n  !  "  she  exclaimed  in  trepi- 
dation. "  Kun,  Mirandy  Jane,  an'  tell  him  our 
dogs  don't  bite." 

The  filly-like  Mirandy  Jane  made  great  speed 
among  the  hounds,  as  she  called  them  off,  and 
remembered  only  after  she  had  returned  to  the 
house  to  be  afraid  of  the  "  shootin'-iron  "  her- 
self. 

The  old  woman,  who  had  come  out  on  the 
porch,  stood  gazing  at  the  party,  shading  her 
eyes  with  her  hand,  and  a  long-range  colloquy 
ensued. 

"  Good-mornin',  madam,"  said  the  man  at 
the  trough. 

"  Good-mornin',  sir,"  quavered  the  old  crone 
on  the  mountain  slope. 

"  I  'm  the  sher'ff  o'  the  county,  madam,  an' 
I  'd  like  ter  know  ef  "  — 

"  Mirandy  Jane,"  the  old  woman  interrupted, 
in  a  wrathful  undertone,  "  'pears  like  I  hev  hed 
the  trouble  o'  raisin'  a  idjit  in  you-uns  !  Them 
ain't  raiders,  'n  nuthin'  like  it.  Run  an'  tell 
the  sher'ff  we  air  dishin'  up  dinner  right  now, 
an'  ax  him  an'  his  gang  ter'  light  an'  hitch,  an' 
eat  it  along  o'  we-uns." 

The  prospect  was  tempting.     It  was  high 


20  THE  PROPHET  OF  THE 

noon,  and  the  posse  had  been  in  the  saddle 
since  dawn.  Dorinda,  with  a  beating  heart, 
marked  how  short  a  consultation  resulted  in 
dismounting  and  hitching  the  horses  ;  and  then, 
with  their  spurs  jingling  and  their  pistols  belted 
about  them,  the  men  trooped  up  to  the  house. 

As  they  seated  themselves  around  the  table, 
more  than  one  looked  back  over  his  shoulder  at 
the  open  window,  in  which  was  framed,  as  mo- 
tionless as  a  painted  picture,  the  vast  perspec- 
tive of  the  endless  blue  ranges  and  the  great 
vaulted  sky,  not  more  blue,  all  with  the  broad, 
still,  brilliant  noontide  upon  it. 

"  Ye  ain't  scrimped  fur  a  view,  Mis'  Cayce, 
an'  that 's  the  Lord's  truth !  "  exclaimed  the 
officer. 

"  Waal,"  said  the  old  woman,  as  if  her  atten- 
tion were  called  to  the  fact  for  the  first  time, 
"  we  kin  see  a  power  o'  kentry  from  this  spot 
o'  ourn,  sure  enough  ;  but  I  dunno  ez  it  gins  U3 
enny  more  chance  o'  ever  viewin'  Canaan." 

"  It 's  a  sight  o'  ground  ter  hev  ter  hunt  a 
man  over,  ez  ef  he  war  a  needle  in  a  haystack," 
and  once  more  the  officer  turned  and  surveyed 
the  prospect. 

The  room  was  overheated  by  the  fire  which 
had  cooked  the  dinner,  and  the  old  woman  ac- 
tively plied  her  fan  of  turkey  feathers,  pausing 
occasionally  to  readjust  her  cap,  which  had  a 


GREAT  SMOKY  MOUNTAINS.  21 

flapping  frill  and  was  surmounted  by  a  pair  of 
gleaming  spectacles.  A  bandana  kerchief  was 
crossed  over  her  breast,  and  she  wore  a  blue-and- 
white-checked  homespun  dress  of  the  same  pat- 
tern and  style  that  she  had  worn  here  fifty  years 
ago.  Her  hands  were  tremulous  and  gnarled 
and  her  face  was  deeply  wrinkled,  but  her  in- 
terest in  life  was  as  fresh  as  Mirandy  Jane's. 

The  great  frame  of  the  warping-bars  on  one 
side  of  the  room  was  swathed  with  a  rainbow  of 
variegated  yarn,  and  a  spinning-wheel  stood 
near  the  door.  A  few  shelves,  scrupulously 
neat,  held  piggins,  a  cracked  blue  bowl,  brown 
earthenware,  and  the  cooking  utensils.  There 
were  rude  gun-racks  on  the  walls.  These  indi- 
cated the  fact  of  several  men  in  the  family.  It 
was  the  universal  dinner-hour,  yet  none  of  them 
appeared.  The  sheriff  reflected  that  perhaps 
they  had  their  own  sufficient  reason  to  be  shy 
of  strangers,  and  the  horses  hitched  outside 
advertised  the  presence  and  number  of  una$- 
customed  visitors  within.  When  the  usual 
appetizer  was  offered,  it  took  the  form  of 
whiskey  in  such  quantity  that  the  conviction 
was  forced  upon  him  that  it  was  come  by  very 
handily.  However,  he  applied  himself  with 
great  relish  to  the  bacon  and  snap-beans,  corn 
dodgers  and  fried  chicken,  not  knowing  that 
Mirandy  Jane,  who  was  esteemed  altogether 


22  THE  PROPHET  OF  THE 

second  rate,  had  cooked  them,  and  he  spread 
honey  upon  the  apple-pie,  ate  it  with  his  knife, 
and  washed  it  down  with  buttermilk,  kept  cold 
as  ice  in  the  spring,  —  the  mixture  being  cal- 
culated to  surprise  a  more  civilized  stomach. 

Not  even  his  conscience  was  roused,  —  the 
first  intimation  of  a  disordered  digestion.  He 
listened  to  old  Mrs.  Cayce  with  no  betrayal  of 
divination  when  she  vaguely  but  anxiously  ex- 
plained the  absence  of  her  son  and  his  boys  in 
the  equivocal  phrase,  "  Not  round  about  ter-day, 
bein'  gone  off,"  and  he  asked  how  many  miles 
distant  was  the  Settlement,  as  if  he  understood 
they  had  gone  thither.  He  was  saying  to  him- 
self, the  brush  whiskey  warming  his  heart,  that 
the  revenue  department  paid  him  nothing  to 
raid  moonshiners,  and  there  was  no  obligation 
of  his  office  to  sift  any  such  suspicion  which 
might  occur  to  him  while  accepting  an  un- 
guarded hospitality. 

•He  looked  with  somewhat  appreciative  eyes 
at  Dorinda,  as  she  went  back  and  forth  from 
the  table  to  the  pot  which  hung  in  the  deep 
chimney-place  above  the  smouldering  coals. 
She  had  laid  aside  her  bonnet.  Her  face  was 
grave  ;  her  eyes  were  bright  and  excited ;  her 
hair  was  drawn  back,  except  for  the  tendrils 
about  her  brow,  and  coiled,  with  the  aid  of  a 
much-prized  '« tuckin'  comb,"  at  the  back  of 


GREAT  SMOKY  MOUNTAINS.  23 

her  head  in  a  knot  discriminated  as  Grecian  in 
civilization.  He  remarked  to  her  grandmother 
that  he  was  a  family  man  himself,  and  had  a 
daughter  as  old,  he  should  say,  as  Dorinda. 

"  D'rindy  air  turned  seventeen  now,"  said 
Mrs.  Cayce,  disparagingly.  "  It  'pears  like  ter 
me  ez  the  young  folks  nowadays  air  awk'ard 
an'  back'ard.  I  war  married  when  I  war  six- 
teen, —  sixteen  scant." 

The  girl  felt  that  she  was  indeed  of  advanced 
years,  and  the  sheriff  said  that  his  daughter 
was  not  yet  sixteen,  and  he  thought  it  probable 
she  weighed  more  than  Dorinda. 

He  lighted  his  pipe  presently,  and  tilted  his 
chair  back  against  the  wall. 

"  Yes  'm,"  he  said,  meditatively,  gazing  out 
of  the  window  at  the  great  panorama,  "  it 's  a 
pretty  big  spot  o'  kentry  ter  hev  ter  hunt  a 
man  over.  Now  ef  't  war  one  o'  the  town  folks 
we  could  make  out  ter  overhaul  him  somehows  ; 
but  a  mounting  boy,  —  why,  he  's  ez  free  ter 
the  hills  ez  a  fox.  I  s'pose  ye  hain't  seen  him 
hyar-abouts  ?  " 

"  I  hain't  hearn  who  it  air  yit,"  the  old 
woman  replied,  putting  her  hand  behind  her 
ear. 

"  It 's  Rick  Tyler ;  he  hails  from  this  deestric'. 
I  won't  be  'stonished  ef  we  ketch  him  this  time. 
The  gov'nor  has  offered  two  hunderd  dollars 


24  THE  PROPHET  OF  THE 

reward  fur  him,  an'  I  reckon  somebody  will  find 
it  wuth  while  ter  head  him  fur  us." 

He  was  talking  idly.  He  had  no  expectation 
of  developments  here.  He  had  only  stopped 
at  the  house  in  the  first  instance  for  the  ques- 
tion which  he  had  asked  at  every  habitation 
along  the  road.  It  suddenly  occurred  to  him 
as  polite  to  include  Dorinda  in  the  conver- 
sation. 

"  Ye  hain't  seen  nor  hearn  of  him,  I  s'pose, 
hev  ye  ?  "  inquired  the  sheriff,  directly  address- 
ing her. 

As  he  turned  toward  her  he  marked  her 
expression.  His  own  face  changed  suddenly. 
He  rose  at  once. 

"  Don't  trifle  with  the  law,  I  warn  ye,"  he 
said,  sternly.  "  Ye  hev  seen  that  man." 

Dorinda  was  standing  beside  her  spinning- 
wheel,  one  hand  holding  the  thread,  the  other 
raised  to  guide  the  motion.  She  looked  at  him, 
pale  and  breathless. 

"  I  hev  seen  him.  I  ain't  onwillin'  ter  own 
it.  Ye  never  axed  me  afore." 

The  other  members  of  the  party  had  crowded 
in  from  the  porch,  where  they  had  been  sitting 
since  dinner,  smoking  their  pipes.  The  officer, 
realizing  his  lapse  of  vigilance  and  the  loss  of 
his  opportunity,  was  sharply  conscious,  too,  of 
their  appreciation  of  his  fatuity. 


GREAT  SMOKY  MOUNTAINS.  25 

"  Whar  did  ye  see  him  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  I  seen  him  hyar  —  this  mornin'."  There 
was  a  stir  of  excitement  in  the  group.  "  He 
kem  by  on  his  beastis  whilst  I  war  a-ploughin', 
an'  we  talked  a  passel.  An'  then  he  tuk  Pete's 
plough,  ez  war  idle  in  the  turnrow,  an'  holped 
along  some;  he  run  a  few  furrows." 

"  Which  way  did  he  go  ?  "  asked  the  sheriff, 
breathlessly. 

"  I  dunno,"  faltered  the  girl. 

"  Look-a-hyar ! "  he  thundered,  in  rising 
wrath.  "  Ye  '11  find  yerself  under  lock  an'  key 
in  the  jail  at  Shaftesville,  ef  ye  undertake  ter 
fool  with  me.  Which  way  did  he  go  ?  " 

A  flush  sprang  into  the  girl's  excited  face. 
Her  eyes  flashed. 

"  Ef  ye  kin  jail  me  fur  tellin'  all  I  know,  I 
can't  holp  it,"  she  said,  with  spirit.  "  I  kin 
tell  no  more." 

He  saw  the  justice  of  her  position.  It  did 
not  make  the  situation  easier  for  him.  Here 
he  had  sat  eating  and  drinking  and  idly  talking 
while  the  fugitive,  who  had  escaped  by  a  hair's 
breadth,  was  counting  miles  and  miles  between 
himself  and  his  lax  pursuer.  This  would  be 
heard  of  in  Shaftesville,  —  and  he  a  candidate 
for  reelection  !  He  beheld  already  an  exchange 
of  significant  glances  among  his  posse.  Had 
he  asked  that  simple  question  earlier  he  might 


26  THE  PROPHET  OF  THE 

now  be  on  his  way  back  to  Shaftesville,  his 
prisoner  braceleted  with  the  idle  handcuffs  that 
jingled  in  his  pocket  as  he  moved. 

He  caught  at  every  illusive  vagary  that  might 
promise  to  retrieve  his  error.  He  declared  that 
she  could  not  say  which  way  Rick  Tyler  had 
taken  because  he  was  not  gone. 

"  He 's  in  this  house  right  now ! "  he  ex- 
claimed. He  ordered  a  search,  and  the  guests, 
a  little  while  ago  so  friendly,  began  exploring 
every  nook  and  cranny. 

"  No,  no  ! "  cried  the  old  woman,  shrilly,  as 
they  tried  the  door  of  the  shed-room,  which 
was  bolted  and  barred.  "  Ye  can't  tech  that 
thar  door.  It  can't  be  opened,  —  not  ef  the 
Gov'nor  o'  Tennessee  war  hyar  himself,  a-moan- 
in'  an'  a-honin'  ter  git  in." 

The  sheriff's  eyes  dilated.  "  Open  the  door, 
—  I  summon  ye  ! "  he  proclaimed,  with  his 
imperative  official  manner. 

"  No !  —  I  done  tole  ye,"  she  said  indignantly. 
"  The  word  o'  the  men  folks  hev  been  gin  ter 
keep  that  thar  door  shet,  an'  shet  it' s  goin*  ter 
be  kep'." 

The  officer  laid  his  hand  upon  it. 

"  Ye  must  n't  bust  it  open  !  "  shrilled  the  old 
woman.  "  Laws-a-massy !  ef  thar  be  many 
sech  ez  you-uns  in  Shaftesville,  I  ain't  s'prised 
none  that  the  Bible  gits  ter  mournin'  over  the 


GREAT  SMOKY  MOUNTAINS.  27 

low  kentiy,  an'  calls  it  a  vale  o'  tears  an'  the 
valley  o'  the  shadder  o'  death  !  " 

The  sheriff  had  placed  his  powerful  shoulder 
against  the  frail  batten  door. 

"  Hyar  goes  !  "  he  said. 

There  was  a  crash ;  the  door  lay  in  splin- 
ters on  the  floor  ;  the  men  rushed  precipitately 
over  it. 

They  came  back  laughing  sheepishly.  The 
officer's  face  was  angry  and  scarlet. 

"  Don't  take  the  bar'l,  —  don't  take  the 
bar'l !  "  the  old  woman  besought  of  him,  as 
she  fairly  hung  upon  his  arm.  "  I  dunno  how 
the  boys  would  cavort  ef  they  kem  back  an' 
fund  the  bar'l  gone." 

He  gave  her  no  heed.  "  Why  n't  ye  tell  me 
that  man  war  n't  thar?"  he  asked  of  the 
girl. 

44  Ye  did  n't  ax  me  that  word,"  said  Dorinda. 

"  No,  'Cajah  Green,  ye  did  n't,"  said  one  of 
the  men,  who,  since  the  abortive  result  of  their 
leader's  suspicion,  were  ashamed  of  their  mis- 
sion, and  prone  to  self-exoneration.  "  I  '11  stand 
up  ter  it  ez  she  answered  full  an'  true  every 
word  ez  ye  axed  her." 

"  Lor'-a'mighty !  Ef  I  jes'  knowed  afore- 
hand  how  it  will  tech  the  boys  when  they  view 
the  door  down  onto  the  floor ! "  exclaimed  the 
old  woman.  "  They  mought  jounce  round 


28  THE  PROPHET  OF  THE 

hyar  ez  ef  they  war  bereft  o'  reason,  an'  all 
thar  hope  o'  salvation  hed  hung  on  the  hinges. 
An'  then  agin  they  mought  'low  ez  they  hed 
ruther  hev  no  door  than  be  at  the  trouble  o' 
shettin'  it  an'  barrin'  it  up  ez  they  come  an'  go. 
They  air  mighty  onsartin  in  thar  temper,  an'  I 
hev  never  hankered  ter  see  'em  crost.  But  fur 
the  glory's  sake,  don't  tech  the  bar'l.  It 's  been 
sot  thar  ter  age  some,  ef  the  Lord  will  spare  it." 

In  the  girl's  lucent  eyes  the  officer  detected 
a  gleam  of  triumph.  How  far  away  in  the 
tangled  labyrinths  of  the  mountain  wilderness, 
among  the  deer-paths  and  the  cataracts  and  the 
cliffs,  had  these  long  hours  led  Rick  Tyler  ! 

He  spoke  on  his  angry  impulse :  "  An'  I 
ain't  goin'  ter  furgit  in  a  hurry  how  I  hev  fund 
out  ez  ye  air  a-consortin'  with  criminals,  an' 
aidin'  an'  abettin'  men  ez  air  fleein'  from  jestice 
an'  wanted  fur  murder.  Ye  look  out ;  ye  '11 
find  yerself  in  Shaftesville  jail  'fore  long,  I  'm 
a-thinkinV 

"  He  stopped  an'  talked  ez  other  folks  stop 
an'  talk,"  Dorinda  retorted.  "  I  could  n't  hen- 
der,  an'  I  hed  no  mind  ter  hender.  He  took 
no  bite  nor  sup  ez  others  hev  done.  'Pears  like 
ter  me  ez  we  hev  gin  aid  an'  comfort  ter  the 
off'cer  o'  the  law,  ez  well  ez  we  could." 

And  this  was  the  story  that  went  down  to 
Shaftesville. 


GREAT  SMOKY  MOUNTAINS.  29 

The  man,  his  wrath  rebounding  upon  him- 
self, hung  hia,  head,  and  went  down  to  the 
trough,  and  mounted  his  horse  without  another 
word. 

The  others  hardly  knew  what  to  say  to 
Dorinda.  But  they  were  more  deliberate  in 
their  departure,  and  hung  around  apologizing 
in  their  rude  way  to  the  old  woman,  who  con- 
vulsively besought  each  to  spare  the  barrel, 
which  had  been  set  in  the  shed-room  to  "  age 
some,  ef  it  could  be  let''  alone." 

Dorinda  stood  under  the  jack-bean  vines, 
blossoming  purple  and  white,  and  watched  the 
men  as  they  silently  rode  away.  All  the  pride 
within  her  was  stirred.  Every  sensitive  fibre 
flinched  from  the  officer's  coarse  threat.  She 
followed  him  out  of  sight  with  vengeful  eyes. 

"  I  wish  I  war  a  man  ! "  she  cried,  passion- 
ately. 

"  A-law,  D'rindy !  "  exclaimed  her  grand- 
mother, aghast  at  the  idea.  "  That  ain't  man- 
ners ! " 

The  shadows  were  beginning  to  creep  slowly 
up  the  slopes  of  the  Great  Smoky  Mountains, 
as  if  they  came  from  the  depths  of  the  earth. 
A  roseate  suffusion  idealized  range  and  peak  to 
the  east.  The  delicate  skyey  background  of 
opaline  tints  and  lustre  made  distinct  and  defi- 
nite their  majestic  symmetry  of  outline.  Ah  ! 


30  THE  PROPHET  OF  THE 

and  the  air  was  so  clear !  What  infinite  lengtha 
of  elastic  distances  stretched  between  that  quiv- 
ering trumpet-flower  by  the  fence  and  the  azure 
heights  which  its  scarlet  horn  might  almost 
seem  to  cover !  The  sun,  its  yellow  blaze 
burned  out,  and  now  a  sphere  of  smouldering 
fire,  was  dropping  down  behind  Chilhowee, 
royally  purple,  richly  dark.  Wings  were  in 
the  air  and  every  instinct  was  homeward.  An 
eagle,  with  a  shadow  skurrying  through  the 
valley  like  some  forlorn  Icarus  that  might  not 
soar,  swept  high  over  the  landscape.  Above 
all  rose  the  great  "  bald,"  still  splendidly  il- 
lumined with  the  red  glamour  of  the  sunset, 
and  holding  its  uncovered  head  so  loftily  against 
the  sky  that  it  might  seem  it  had  bared  its 
brow  before  the  majesty  of  heaven. 

When  the  "  men  folks,"  great,  gaunt,  beard- 
ed, jeans-clad  fellows,  stood  in  the  shed-room 
and  gazed  at  the  splintered  door  upon  the  floor, 
it  was  difficult  to  judge  what  was  the  prevail- 
ing sentiment,  so  dawdling,  so  uncommunica- 
tive, so  inexpressive  of  gesture,  were  they. 

"  We  knowed  ez  thar  war  strangers  prowlin' 
roun',"  said  the  master  of  the  house,  when  he 
had  heard  his  mother's  excited  account  of  the 
events  of  the  day.  "  We  war  a-startin'  home  ter 
dinner,  an'  seen  thar  beastises  hitched  thar 
a-nigh  the  trough.  An'  I  'lowed  ez  mebbe  they 


GREAT  SMOKY  MOUNTAINS.  31 

raought  be  the  revenue  devils,  so  I  jes'  made 
the  boys  lay  low.  An'  Sol  war  set  ter  watch, 
an'  he  gin  the  word  when  they  hed  rid  away." 

He  was  a  man  of  fifty-five,  perhaps,  tough 
and  stalwart.  His  face  was  as  lined  and  seamed 
as  that  of  his  mother,  who  had  counted  nearly 
fourscore  years,  but  his  frame  was  almost  as 
supple  as  at  thirty.  This  trait  of  physical 
vigor  was  manifested  in  each  of  his  muscular 
sons,  and  despite  their  slow  and  lank  uncouth- 
ness,  their  movements  suggested  latent  elas- 
ticity. In  Dorinda,  his  only  daughter,  it  graced 
her  youth  and  perfected  her  beauty.  He  was 
known  far  and  wide  as  "  Ground-hog  Cayce," 
but  he  would  tell  you,  with  a  flash  of  the  eye, 
that  before  the  war  he  bore  the  Christian  name 
of  John. 

Nothing  more  was  said  on  the  subject  until 
after  supper,  when  they  were  all  sitting,  dusky 
shadows,  on  the  little  porch,  where  the  fireflies 
sparkled  and  the  vines  fluttered,  and  one  might 
look  out  and  see  the  new  moon,  in  the  simili- 
tude of  a  silver  boat,  sailing  down  the  western 
skies,  off  the  headlands  of  Chilhowee.  A 
cricket  was  shrilling  in  the  weeds.  The  vague, 
sighing  voice  of  the  woods  rose  and  fell  with  a 
melancholy  monody.  A  creamy  elder  blossom 
glimmered  in  a  corner  of  the  rail  fence,  hard  by, 
its  delicate,  delicious  odor  pervading  the  air. 


82  THE  PROPHET  OF  THE 

"I  never  knowed,"  said  one  of  the  young 
men,  "ez  this  hyar  sher'ff —  this  'Cajah  Green 
—  war  sech  a  headin'  critter." 

"He  never  teched  the  bar'l,"  said  the  old 
woman,  not  wishing  that  he  should  appear 
blacker  than  he  had  painted  himself. 

"I  s'pose  you-uns  gin  him  an'  his  gang  a  bite 
an'  sup,"  remarked  Ground-hog  Cayce. 

"  They  eat  a  sizable  dinner  hyar,"  put  in 
Mirandy  Jane,  who,  having  cooked  it,  had  no 
mind  that  it  should  be  belittled. 

"An'  they  stayed  a  right  smart  while,  an' 
talked  powerful  frien'ly  an'  sociable-like,"  said 
old  Mrs.  Cayce,  "  till  the  sher'ff  got  addled  with 
the  notion  that  we  hed  Rick  Tyler  hid  hyar. 
An'  unless  we-uns  hed  tied  him  in  the  cheer  or 
shot  him,  nuthin'  in  natur'  could  hev  held  him. 
I  'lowed  't  war  the  dram  he  tuk,  though  D'rindy 
thinks  differ.  They  never  teched  the  bar'l, 
though." 

"An'  then,"  said  Dorinda,  with  a  sudden 
gush  of  tears,  all  the  afflicted  delicacy  of  a  young 
and  tender  woman,  all  the  overweening  pride 
of  the  mountaineer,  throbbing  wildly  in  her 
veins,  her  heart  afire,  her  helpless  hands  trem- 
bling, "  he  said  the  word  ez  he  would  lock  me 
up  in  the  jail  at  Shaftesville,  sence  I  hed  owned 
ter  seem'  a  man  ez  he  war  n't  peart  enough  ter 
ketch.  He  spoke  that  word  ter  me,  —  the  jail !  " 


GREAT  SMOKY  MOUNTAINS.  33 

She  hung  sobbing  in  the  doorway. 

There  was  a  murmur  of  indignation  among 
the  group,  and  John  Cayce  rose  to  his  feet  with 
a  furious  oath. 

"  He  shell  rue  it !  "  he  cried,  —  "  he  shell  rue 
it !  Me  an'  mine  take  no  word  off'n  nobody. 
My  gran'dad  an'  his  three  brothers,  one  hun- 
derd  an'  fourteen  year  ago,  kem  hyar  from  the 
old  North  State  an'  settled  in  the  Big  Smoky. 
They  an'  thar  sons  rooted  up  the  wilderness. 
They  crapped.  They  fit  the  beastis  ;  they  fit 
the  Injun;  they  fit  the  British;  an'  this  last 
little  war  o'  ourn  they  fit  each  other.  Thar 
hev  never  been  a  coward  'mongst  'em.  Thar 
hev  never  been  a  key  turned  on  one  of  'em,  or 
a  door  shet.  They  hev  respected  the  law  fur 
what  it  war  wuth,  an'  they  hev  stood  up  fur 
thar  rights  agin  it.  They  answer  fur  thar 
word,  an'  others  hev  ter  answer."  He  paused 
for  a  moment. 

The  moon,  still  in  the  similitude  of  a  silver 
boat,  swung  at  anchor  in  a  deep  indentation  in 
the  summit  of  Chilhowee  that  looked  like  some 
lonely  pine-girt  bay ;  what  strange,  mysterious 
fancies  did  it  land  from  its  cargo  of  sentiments 
and  superstitions  and  uncanny  influences ! 

44  D'rindy,"  her  father  commanded,  "  make  a 
mark  on  this  hyar  rifle-bar'l  fur  'Cajah  Green's 
word  ter  be  remembered  by." 


34  TEE  PROPHET  OF  THE 

There  was  a  flash  in  the  faint  moonbeams, 
as  he  held  out  to  her  a  long,  sharp  knife.  The 
rifle  was  in  his  hand.  Other  marks  were  on  it 
commemorating  past  events.  This  was  to  be  a 
foregone  conclusion. 

"No,  no!"  cried  the  girl,  shrinking  back 
aghast.  "  I  don't  want  him  shot.  I  would  n't 
hev  him  hurted  fur  me,  fur  nuthin' !  I  ain't 
keerin'  now  fur  what  he  said.  Let  him  be,  — 
let  him  be." 

She  had  smarted  under  the  sense  of  indignity. 
She  had  wanted  their  sympathy,  and  perhaps 
their  idle  anger.  She  was  dismayed  by  the 
revengeful  passion  she  had  roused. 

"  No,  no ! "  she  reiterated,  as  one  of  the 
younger  men,  her  brother  Peter,  stepped  swiftly 
out  from  the  shadow,  seized  her  hand  with  the 
knife  trembling  in  it,  and,  catching  the  moon- 
light on  the  barrel  of  the  rifle,  guided  ujjo'n  it, 
close  to  the  muzzle,  the  mark  of  a  cross. 

The  moon  had  weighed  anchor  at  last,  and 
dropped  down  behind  the  mountain  summit, 
leaving  the  bay  with  a  melancholy  waning  suf- 
fusion of  light,  and  the  night  very  dark. 


GREAT  SMOKY  MOUNTAINS.  35 


II. 

THE  summer  days  climbed  slowly  over  the 
Great  Smoky  Mountains.  Long  the  morning 
lingered  among  the  crags,  and  chasms,  and 
the  dwindling  shadows.  The  vertical  noontide 
poised  motionless  on  the  great  balds.  The  even- 
ing dawdled  along  the  sunset  slopes,  and  the 
waning  crimson  waited  in  the  dusk  for  the 
golden  moonrise. 

So  little  speed  they  made  that  it  seemed  to 
Rick  Tyler  that  weeks  multiplied  while  they 
loitered. 

It  might  have  been  deemed  the  ideal  of  a 
sylvan  life,  —  those  days  while  he  lay  hid  out 
on  the  Big  Smoky.  His  rifle  brought  him  food 
with  but  the  glance  of  the  eye  and  a  touch  on 
the  trigger.  "  Ekal  ter  the  prophet's  raven,  ef 
the  truth  war  knowed,"  he  said  sometimes, 
while  he  cooked  the  game  over  a  fire  of  dead- 
wood  gathered  by  the  wayside.  A  handful  of 
blackberries  gave  it  a  relish,  and  there  were 
the  ice-cold,  never-failing  springs  of  the  range 
wherever  he  might  turn. 

But  for  the  unquiet  thoughts  that  followed 
him  from  the  world,  the  characteristic  sloth  of 


36  THE  PROPHET  OF  THE 

the  mountaineer  might  have  spared  him  all  sense 
of  tedium,  as  he  lay  on  the  bank  of  a  mountain 
stream,  while  the  slow  days  waxed  and  waned. 
Often  he  would  see  a  musk-rat  —  picturesque 
little  body  —  swimming  in  a  muddy  dip.  And 
again  his  listless  gaze  was  riveted  upon  the 
quivering  diaphanous  wings  of  a  snake-doctor, 
hovering  close  at  hand,  until  the  grotesque,  airy 
thing  would  flit  away.  The  arrowy  sunbeams 
shot  into  the  dense  umbrageous  tangles,  and 
fell  spent  to  earth  as  the  shadows  swayed. 
Farther  down  the  stream  two  huge  cliffs  rose  on 
either  side  of  the  channel,  giving  a  narrow  view 
of  far-away  blue  mountains  as  through  a  gate. 
In  and  out  stole  the  mist,  uncertain  whither. 
The  wind  came  and  went,  paying  no  toll.  Some- 
times, when  the  sun  was  low,  a  shadow —  an  ant- 
lered  shadow  —  slipped  through  like  a  fantasy. 

But  when  the  skies  would  begin  to  darken 
and  the  night  come  tardily  on,  the  scanty  inci- 
dents of  the  day  lost  their  ephemeral  interest. 
His  human  heart  would  assert  itself,  and  he 
would  yearn  for  the  life  from  which  he  was  ban- 
ished, and  writhe  with  an  intolerable  anguish 
under  his  sense  of  injury. 

"  An'  the  law  holds  me  the  same  ez  'Bednego 
Tynes,  who  killed  Joel  Byers,  jes'  ter  keep  his 
hand  in,  —  hevin'  killed  another  man  afore, — 
an'  I  never  so  much  ez  lifted  a  finger  agin  him !  " 


GREAT  SMOKY  MOUNTAINS.  37 

He  pondered  much  on  his  past,  and  the  fu- 
ture that  he  had  lost.  Sometimes  he  gave  him- 
self to  adjusting,  from  the  meagre  circumstances 
of  their  common  lot  on  Big  Smoky,  the  future 
of  those  with  whose  lives  his  own  had  hereto- 
fore seemed  an  integrant  part,  and  from  which 
it  should  forevermore  be  dissevered.  All  the 
pangs  of  penance  were  in  that  sense  of  irrevo- 
cability. It  was  done,  and  here  was  his  choice  : 
to  live  the  life  of  a  skulking  wolf,  to  prowl,  to 
flee,  to  fight  at  bay,  or  to  return  and  confront 
an  outraged  law.  He  experienced  a  frenzy  of 
rage  to  realize  how  hardily  his  world  would  roll 
on  without  him.  Big  Smoky  would  not  suffer! 
The  sun  would  shine,  and  the  crops  ripen,  and 
the  harvest  come,  and  the  snows  sift  down,  and 
the  seasons  revolve.  The  boys  would  shoot  for 
beef,  and  there  was  to  be  a  gander-pulling  at 
the  Settlement  when  the  candidates  should 
come,  "  stumpin'  the  Big  Smoky"  for  the  mid- 
summer elections.  And  when,  periodically, "  the 
mountings  "  would  awake  to  a  sense  of  sin,  and 
a  revival  would  be  instituted,  all  the  people 
would  meet,  and  clap  their  hands,  and  sing,  and 
pray,  and  that  busy  sinner,  D'rindy,  might  find 
time  to  think  upon  grace,  and  perhaps  upon  the 
man  whom  she  likened  to  the  prophets  of  old. 

Then  Rick  Tyler  would  start  up  from  his  bed 
of  boughs,  and  stride  wildly  about  among  the 


38  THE  PROPHET  OF  THE 

bowlders,  hardly  pausing  to  listen  if  he  heard  a 
wolf  howling  on  the  lonely  heights.  An  owl 
would  hoot  derisively  from  the  tangled  laurel. 
And  oh,  the  melancholy  moonlight  in  the  mel- 
ancholy pines,  where  the  whip-poor-will  moaned 
and  moaned ! 

"  I  'd  shoot  that  critter  ef  I  could  make  out 
ter  see  him  ! "  cried  the  harassed  fugitive,  his 
every  nerve  quivering. 

It  all  began  with  Dorinda  ;  it  all  came  back 
to  her.  He  drearily  foresaw  that  she  would 
forget  him  ;  and  yet  he  could  not  know  how 
the  alienation  was  to  commence,  how  it  should 
progress,  and  the  process  of  its  completion. 
"  All  whilst  I  'm  a-roamin'  off  with  the  painters 
an'  sech  !  "  he  exclaimed,  bitterly. 

And  she,  —  her  future  was  plain  enough. 
There  was  a  little  log-cabin  by  the  grist-mill : 
the  mountains  sheltered  it ;  the  valley  held  it 
as  in  the  palm  of  a  hand.  Hardly  a  moment 
since,  his  jealous  heart  had  been  racked  by  the 
thought  of  the  man  she  likened  to  the  prophets 
of  old,  and  now  he  saw  her  spinning  in  the  door 
of  Amos  James's  house,  in  the  quiet  depths  of 
Eskaqua  Cove. 

This  vision  stilled  his  heart.  He  was  numbed 
by  his  despair.  Somehow,  the  burly  young 
miller  seemed  a  fitter  choice  than  the  religious 
enthusiast,  whose  leisure  was  spent  in  praying 


GREAT  SMOKY  MOUNTAINS.  39 

in  the  desert  places.  He  wondered  that  he 
should  ever  have  felt  other  jealousy,  and  was 
subacutely  amazed  to  find  this  passion  so  elastic. 

With  wild  and  haggard  eyes  he  saw  the  day 
break  upon  this  vision.  It  came  in  at  the  great 
gate,  —  a  pale  flush,  a  fainting  star,  a  burst  of 
song,  and  the  red  and  royal  sun. 

The  morning  gradually  exerted  its  revivify- 
ing influence  and  brought  a  new  impulse.  He 
easily  deceived  himself,  and  disguised  it  as  a 
reason. 

"  This  hyar  powder  is  a-gittin'  mighty  low," 
he  said  to  himself,  examining  the  contents  of  his 
powder-horn.  "  An'  that  thar  rifle  eats  it  up 
toler'ble  fast  sence  I  hev  hed  ter  hunt  varmints 
fur  my  vittles.  Ef  that  war  the  sher'ff  a-ridin' 
arter  me  the  day  I  war  at  Cayce's,  he 's  done 
gone  whar  he  b'longs  by  this  time,  —  't  war 
two  weeks  ago ;  an'  ef  he  ain't  gone  back  he 
would  n't  be  layin'  fur  me  roun'  the  Settlewm£, 
nohow.  An'  I  kin  git  some  powder  thar,  an' 
hear  'em  tell  what  the  mounting  air  a-doin'  of. 
An'  mebbe  I  won't  be  so  durned  lonesome  when 
I  gits  back  hyar." 

He  mounted  his  horse,  later  in  the  day,  and 
picked  his  way  slowly  down  the  banks  of  the 
stream  and  through  the  great  gate. 

The  Settlement  on  a  spur  of  the  Big  Smoky 
illustrated  the  sacrilege  of  civilization.  A  num- 


40  THE  PROPHET  OF  THE 

ber  of  trees,  girdled  years  ago,  stretched  above 
the  fields  their  gigantic  skeletons,  suggesting 
their  former  majesty  of  mien  and  splendid  pro- 
portions. Their  forlorn  leafless  branches  rattled 
together  with  a  dreary  sound,  as  the  breeze 
stirred  among  the  gaunt  and  pallid  assemblage. 
The  little  log-cabins,  five  or  six  in  number, 
were  so  situated  among  the  stumps  which  dis- 
figured the  clearing  that  if  a  sudden  wind 
should  bring  down  one  of  the  monarchical  spec- 
tres of  the  forest  it  would  make  havoc  only  in 
the  crops.  The  wheat  was  thin  and  backward. 
A  little  patch  of  cotton  in  a  mellow  dip  served 
to  show  the  plant  at  its  minimum.  There  was 
tobacco,  too,  placed  like  the  cotton  where  it 
was  hoped  it  would  take  a  notion  to  grow. 
Sorghum  flourished,  and  the  tasseled  Indian 
corn,  waving  down  a  slope,  had  aboriginal  sug- 
gestions of  plumed  heads  and  glancing  quivers. 
A  clamor  of  Guinea  fowls  arose,  and  geese  and 
turkeys  roved  about  in  the  publicity  of  the 
clearing  with  the  confident  air  of  esteemed  citi- 
zens. Sheep  were  feeding  among  the  ledges. 

It  was  hard  to  say  what  might  be  bought  at 
the  store  except  powder  and  coffee,  and  sugar 
perhaps,  if  "  long-sweetenin'  "  might  not  suffice  ; 
for  each  of  the  half  dozen  small  farms  was  a 
type  of  the  region,  producing  within  its  own 
confines  all  its  necessities.  Hand-looms  could 


GREAT  SMOKY  MOUNTAINS.  41 

be  glimpsed  through  open  doors,  and  as  yet  the 
dry-goods  trade  is  unknown  to  the  homespun- 
clad  denizens  of  the  Settlement.  Beeswax, 
feathers,  honey,  dried  fruit,  are  bartered  here, 
and  a  night's  rest  has  never  been  lost  for  the 
perplexities  of  the  currency  question  on  the  Big 
Smoky  Mountains. 

The  proprietor  of  the  store,  his  operations 
thus  limited,  was  content  to  grow  rich  slowly, 
if  needs  were  to  grow  rich  at  all.  In  winter  he 
sat  before  the  great  wood  fire  in  the  store  and 
smoked  his  pipe,  and  his  crony,  the  blacksmith, 
often  came,  hammer  in  hand  and  girded  with 
his  leather  apron,  and  smoked  with  him.  In 
the  summer  he  sat  all  day,  as  now,  in  front  of 
the  door,  looking  meditatively  at  the  scene  be- 
fore him.  The  sunlight  slanted  upon  the  great 
dead  trees ;  their  forms  were  imposed  with  a 
wonderful  distinctness  upon  the  landscape  that 
stretched  so  far  below  the  precipice  on  which 
the  little  town  was  perched.  They  even  touched, 
with  those  bereaved  and  denuded  limbs,  the  far 
blue  mountains  encircling  the  horizon,  and  with 
their  interlacing  lines  and  curves  they  seemed 
some  mysterious  scripture  engraven  upon  the 
world. 

It  was  just  six  o'clock,  and  the  shadow  of  a 
bough  that  still  held  a  mass  of  woven  sticks, 
once  the  nest  of  an  eagle,  had  reached  the  verge 


42  THE  PROPHET  OF  THE 

of  the  cliff,  when  the  sound  of  hoofs  fell  on  the 
still  air,  and  a  man  rode  into  the  clearing  from 
the  encompassing  woods. 

The  storekeeper  glanced  up  to  greet  the  new- 
comer, but  did  not  risk  the  fatigue  of  rising. 
Women  looked  out  of  the  windows,  and  a  girl 
on  a  porch,  reeling  yarn,  found  a  reason  to  stop 
her  work.  A  man  came  out  of  a  house  close 
by,  and  sat  on  the  fence,  within  range  of  any 
colloquy  in  which  he  might  wish  to  participate. 
The  whole  town  could  join  at  will  in  a  muni- 
cipal conversation.  The  forge  fire  showed  a 
dull  red  against  the  dusky  brown  shadows  in 
the  recesses  of  the  shop.  The  blacksmith  stood 
in  front  of  the  door,  his  eyes  shielded  with  his 
broad  blackened  right  hand,  and  looked  criti- 
cally at  the  steed.  Horses  were  more  in  his 
line  than  men.  He  was  a  tall,  powerfully  built 
fellow  of  thirty,  perhaps,  with  the  sooty  aspect 
peculiar  to  his  calling,  a  swarthy  complexion, 
and  a  remarkably  well-knit,  compact,  and  mus- 
cular frame.  He  often  said  in  pride,  "  Ef  I  hed 
hed  the  forgin'  o'  myself,  I  would  n't  hev  weld- 
ed on  a  pound  more,  or  hammered  out  a  leader 
differ." 

Suddenly  detaching  his  attention  from  the 
horse,  he  called  out,  "  Waal,  sir  I  Ef  thar  ain't 
Rick  Tyler !  "  This  was  addressed  to  the  town 
at  large.  Then,  "  What  ails  ye,  Rick  ?  I  hearn 


GREAT  SMOKY  MOUNTAINS.  43 

tell  ez  you-uns  war  on  yer  way  ter  Shaftesville 
along  o'the  sher'ff."  He  had  a  keen  and  twink- 
ling eye.  He  cast  it  significantly  at  the  man 
on  the  fence.  "Ye  kem  back,  I  reckon,  ter  git 
yer  hand-cuffs  mended  at  my  shop.  Gimme 
the  bracelets."  He  held  out  his  hand  in  af- 
fected anxiety. 

"  I  ain't  a-wearin'  no  bracelets  now."  Rick 
Tyler's  hasty  impulse  had  its  inipressiveness. 
He  leveled  his  pistol.  "  Ef  ye  hanker  ter  do 
enny  mendin',  I  '11  gin  ye  repairs  ter  make 
in  them  cast-iron  chit'lings  o'  yourn,"  he  said, 
coolly. 

He  was  received  at  the  store  with  a  distinct 
accession  of  respect.  The  blacksmith  stood 
watching  him,  with  angry  eyes,  and  a  furtive 
recollection  of  the  reward  offered  by  the  gov- 
ernor for  his  apprehension. 

The  young  fellow,  with  a  sudden  return  of 
caution,  did  not  at  once  venture  to  dismount ; 
and  Nathan  Hoodendin,  the  storekeeper,  rose 
for  no  customer.  Respectively  seated,  for  these 
diverse  reasons,  they  transacted  the  negotia- 
tion. 

"  Hy're,  Rick,"  drawled  the  storekeeper,  lan- 
guidly. "  I  hopes  ye  keeps  yer  health,"  he 
added,  politely. 

The' young  man  melted  at  the  friendly  tone. 
This  was  the  welcome  he  had  looked  for  at  the 


44  THE  PROPHET  OF  THE 

Settlement.  Loneliness  had  made  his  sensibili- 
ties tender,  and  "  hiding  out "  affected  his  spir- 
its more  than  dodging  the  officers  in  the  haunts 
of  men,  or  daring  the  cupidity  roused,  he  knew, 
by  the  reward  for  his  capture.  The  black- 
smith's jeer  touched  him  as  cruelly  as  an  at- 
tempt upon  his  liberty.  "  Jes'  toler'ble,"  he 
admitted,  with  the  usual  rural  reluctance  to 
acknowledge  full  health.  "  I  hopes  ye  an'  yer 
fambly  air  thrivin',"  he  drawled,  after  a  mo- 
ment. 

A  whiff  came  from  the  storekeeper's  pipe ; 
the  smoke  wreathed  before  his  face,  and  floated 
away. 

"  Waal,  we  air  makin'  out,  —  we  air  makin' 
out." 

"  I  kern  over  hyar,"  said  Rick  Tyler,  pro- 
ceeding to  business,  "  ter  git  some  powder  out'n 
yer  store.  I  wants  one  pound." 

Nathan  Hoodendin  smoked  silently  for  a  mo- 
ment. Then,  with  a  facial  convulsion  and  a 
physical  wrench,  he  lifted  his  voice. 

"  Jer'miah  !  "  he  shouted  in  a  wild  wheeze. 
And  again,  "  Jer'miah  !  " 

The  invoked  Jer'miah  did  not  materialize 
at  once.  When  a  small  tow-headed  boy  of  ten 
came  from  a  house  among  the  stumps,  with  that 
peculiar  deftness  of  tread  characteristic  of  the 
habitually  barefoot,  he  had  an  alert,  startled 


GREAT  BMOK7  MOUNTAINS.  45 

expression,  as  if  he  had  just  jumped  out  of  a 
bush.  His  hair  stood  up  in  front ;  he  had  wide 
pop-eyes,  and  long  ears,  and  a  rabbit-like  as- 
pect that  was  not  diminished  as  he  scudded 
round  the  heels  of  Rick  Tyler's  horse,  at  which 
he  looked  apprehensively. 

"  Jer'miah,"  said  his  father,  with  a  pathetic 
cadence,  "  go  into  the  store,  bub,  an'  git  Rick 
Tyler  a  pound  o'  powder." 

As  Jeremiah  started  in,  the  paternal  senti- 
ment stirred  in  Nathan  Hoodendin's  breast. 

"  Jer'miah,"  he  wheezed,  bringing  the  fore- 
legs of  the  chair  to  the  ground,  and  craning 
forward  with  unwonted  alacrity  to  look  into  the 
dusky  interior  of  the  store,  "  don't  ye  be  foolin' 
round  that  thar  powder  with  no  lighted  tallow 
dip  nor  nuthin'.  I  '11  whale  the  life  out'n  ye  ef 
ye  do.  Jes'  weigh  it  by  the  winder." 

Whether  from  fear  of  a  whaling  by  his  active 
parent,  or  of  the  conjunction  of  a  lighted  tallow 
dip  and  powder,  Jeremiah  dispensed  with  the 
candle.  He  brought  the  commodity  out  pres- 
ently, and  Rick  stowed  it  away  in  his  saddle- 
bags. 

"  Can't  ye  'light  an'  sot  a  while  'an  talk, 
Rick  ?  "  said  the  storekeeper.  "  We-uns  hev 
done  hed  our  supper,  but  I  reckon  they  could 
fix  ye  a  snack  yander  ter  the  house." 

Rick  said  he  wanted  nothing  to  eat,  but,  al- 


46  THE  PROPHET  OF  THE 

though  he  hesitated,  he  could  not  finally  resist 
the  splint-bottomed  chair  tilted  against  the  wall 
of  the  store,  and  a  sociable  pipe,  and  the  coun- 
tryside gossip. 

"  What 's  goin'  on  'round  the  mounting  ?  " 
he  asked. 

Gid  Fletcher,  the  blacksmith,  came  and  sat 
in  another  chair,  and  the  man  on  the  fence  got 
off  and  took  up  his  position  on  a  stump  hard 
by.  The  great  red  sun  dropped  slowly  behind 
the  purple  mountains  ;  and  the  full  golden  moon 
rose  above  the  corn-field  that  lay  on  the  eastern 
slope,  and  hung  there  between  the  dark  woods 
on  either  hand ;  and  the  blades  caught  the 
light,  and  tossed  with  burnished  flashes  into  the 
night ;  and  the  great  ghastly  trees  assumed  a 
ghostly  whiteness ;  and  the  mystic  writing  laid 
011  the  landscape  below  had  the  aspect  of  an 
uninterpreted  portent.  The  houses  were  mostly 
silent ;  now  and  then  a  guard-dog  growled  at 
some  occult  alarm  ;  a  woman  somewhere  was 
softly  and  fitfully  singing  a  child  to  sleep,  and 
the  baby  crooned  too,  and  joined  in  the  vague, 
drowsy  ditty.  And  for  aught  else  that  could 
be  seen,  and  for  aught  else  that  could  be  heard, 
this  was  the  world. 

"  Waal,  the  Tempter  air  fairly  stalkin'  abroad 
on  the  Big  Smoky,  —  leastwise  sence  the  sum- 
mer season  hev  opened,"  said  Nathan  Hooden- 


GREAT  SMOKY  MOUNTAINS.  47 

din.  His  habitual  expression  of  heavy,  joyless 
pondering  had  been  so  graven  into  his  face  that 
his  raised  grizzled  eyebrows,  surmounted  by  a 
multitude  of  perplexed  wrinkles,  his  long,  dis- 
mayed jaw,  his  thin,  slightly  parted  lips,  and 
the  deep  grooves  on  either  side  of  his  nose  were 
not  susceptible  of  many  gradations  of  meaning. 
His  shifting  eyes,  cast  now  at  the  stark  trees, 
now  at  the  splendid  disk  of  the  rising  moon, 
betokened  but  little  anxiety  for  the  Principle 
of  Evil  aloose  in  the  Big  Smoky.  "  Fust,  — 
lemme  see,  —  tharwar  Eph  Lowry,  ez  got  inter 
a  quar'l  with  his  wife's  half-brother's  cousin,  an' 
a-tusslin'  'roun'  they  cut  one  another  right 
smart,  an'  some  say  ez  Eph  '11  never  hev  his 
eyesight  right  good  no  more.  Then  thar  war 
Baker  Teal,  what  the  folks  in  Eskaqua  Cove 
'low  let  down  the  bars  o'  the  milk-sick  pen,  one 
day  las'  fall,  an'  druv  Jacob  White's  red  cow 
in  ;  an'  his  folks  never  knowed  she  hed  grazed 
thar  till  they  hed  milked  an'  churned  fur  but- 
ter, when  she  lay  down  an'  died  o'  the  milk- 
sick.  Ef  they  hed  drunk  her  milk  same  ez 
common,  't  would  hev  sickened  'em,  sure,  'an 
mebbe  killed  'em.  An'  they  've  been  quar'lin' 
'bout'n  it  ever  sence.  Satan  's  a-stirrin',  —  Sa- 
tan's a-stirrin'  'roun'  the  Big  Smoky." 

"  Waal,  I   hearn  ez  some  o'  them  folks  in 
Eskaqua  Cove  'low  ez  the  red  cow  jes'  hooked 


48  THE  PROPHET  OF  THE 

down  the  bars,  bein'  a  tumble  hooker,"  spoke 
up  the  man  on  the  stump,  unexpectedly. 

"  Waal,  White  an'  his  folks  won't  hear  ter  no 
sech  word  ez  that,"  said  the  blacksmith  ;  "  an' 
arter  jowin'  an'  jowin'  back  an'  fo'th  they  went 
t'other  day  an'  informed  on  Teal  'fore  the  jes- 
tice,  an'  the  Squair  fined  him  twenty-five  dol- 
lars, 'cordin'  ter  the  law  o'  Tennessee  fur  them 
ez  m'liciously  lets  down  the  bars  o'  the  milk- 
sick  pen.  An'  Baker  Teal  hed  ter  pay,  an'  the 
county  treasury  an'  the  informers  divided  the 
money  'twixt  'era." 

"  What  did  I  tell  you-uns  ?  Satan 's  a-stir- 
rin',  —  Satan  's  a-stirrin'  'roun'  the  Big  Smoky," 
said  the  storekeeper,  with  a  certain  morbid 
pride  in  the  Enemy's  activity. 

"  The  constable  o'  this  hyar  deestric',"  re- 
commenced Gid  Fletcher,  who  seemed  as  well 
inforrrfed  as  Nathan  Hoodendin,  "he  advised 
'em  ter  lay  it  afore  the  jestice  ;  he  war  mighty 
peart  'bout'n  that  thar  job.  They  'low  ter  me 
ez  he  hev  tuk  up  a  crazy  fit  ez  he  kin  beat 
Micajah  Green  fur  sher'ff,  an'  he's  a-skeetin' 
arter  law-breakers  same  ez  a  rooster  arter  a 
Juny-bug.  He  'lows  it  '11  show  the  ken  try  what 
a  peart  sher'ff  he  'd  make." 

"  Shucks !  "  said  the  man  on  the  stump.  "  I  '11 
vote  fur  'Cajah  Green  fur  sher'ff  agin  the  old 
boy ;  he  hev  got  a  nose  fur  game." 


GREAT  SMOKY  MOUNTAINS.  49 

"He  hain't  nosed  you-uns  out  yit,  hev  he, 
Rick  ?  "  said  the  blacksmith,  with  feigned  heart- 
iness and  a  covert  sneer. 

"  Ho !  ho  !  ho !  "  laughed  Nathan  Hooden- 
din.  "  What  war  I  a-tellin'  you-uns  ?  Satan 's 
a-stirrin',  —  Satan 's  surely  a-stirrin'  on  the  Big 
Smoky." 

Rick  sat  silent  in  the  moonlight,  smoking  his 
pipe,  his  brown  wool  hat  far  back,  the  light  full 
on  his  yellow  head.  His  face  had  grown  a 
trifle  less  square,  and  his  features  were  more 
distinctly  defined  than  of  yore  ;  he  did  not  look 
ill,  but  care  had  drawn  a  sharp  line  here  and 
there. 

"  One  sher'ff  's  same  ter  you-uns  ez  another, 
ain't  he,  Rick  ?  "  said  the  man  on  the  stump. 
"  Any  of  'em  '11  do  ter  run  from." 

"  They  tell  it  ter  me,"  said  the  storekeeper, 
with  so  sudden  a  vivacity  that  it  seemed  it  must 
crack  his  graven  wrinkles,  "  ez  the  whole  Cayce 
gang  air  a-goin'  ter  vote  agin  'Cajah  Green, 
'count  o'  the  way  he  jawed  at  old  Mis'  Cayce 
an'  D'rindy,  the  day  he  run  you-uns  off  from 
thar,  Rick." 

" 1  ain't  hearn  tell  o'  that  yit,"  drawled  Rick, 
desolately,  "  bein'  hid  out." 

"  Waal,  he  jawed  at  D'rindy,  an'  from  what 
I  hev  hearn  D'rindy  jawed  back  ;  an'  I  dunno 
ez  that 's  s'prisin',  —  the  gal-folks  ginerally  do. 
4 


50  THE  PROPHET  OF  THE 

Leastwise,  I  know  ez  he  sent  word  arterward 
ter  D'rindy,  by  his  dep'ty,  —  ez  war  a-scoutin' 
'roun'  hyar,  arter  you-uns,  I  reckon,  Rick,  —  ez 
he  would  be  up  some  day  soon  ter  'lectioneer, 
an'  he  war  a-goin'  ter  stop  ter  thar  house  an' 
ax  her  pardin'.  An'  she  sent  him  word,  fur 
God's  sake  ter  bide  away  from  thar." 

A  long  pause  ensued;  the  stars  were  faint 
and  few ;  the  iterative  note  of  the  katydid  vi- 
brated monotonously  in  the  dark  woods ;  dew 
was  falling  ;  the  wind  stirred. 

"What  ailed  D'rindy  ter  say  that  word?" 
asked  Rick,  mystified. 

"  Waal,  I  dunno,"  said  Hoodendin,  indiffer- 
ently. "  I  hev  never  addled  my  brains  tryin' 
ter  make  out  what  a  woman  means.  Though," 
he  qualified,  "  I  did  ax  the  dep'ty  an'  Amos 
Jeemes  from  down  yander  in  Eskaqua  Cove,  — 
the  dep'ty  hed  purtended  ter  hev  summonsed 
him  ez  a  posse,  an'  they  war  jes'  rollickin'  'roun' 
the  kentry  like  two  chickens  with  thar  heads 
off,  —  I  axed  'em  what  D'rindy  meant ;  an' 
they  'lowed  they  did  n't  know,  nor  war  they 
takin'  it  ter  heart.  They  'lowed  ez  she  never 
axed  them  ter  bide  away  from  thar  fur  God's 
sake.  An'  then  they  snickered  an'  laffed,  like 
single  men  do.  An'  I  up  an'  tole  'em  ez  the 
Book  sot  it  down  ez  the  laffter  o'  fools  is  like 
the  cracklin'  o'  bresh  under  a  pot." 


GREAT  SMOKY  MOUNTAINS.  51 

Rick  Tyler  was  eager,  his  eyes  kindling,  his 
breath  quick.  He  looked  with  uncharacteristic 
alertness  at  the  inexpressive  face  of  the  lei- 
surely narrator. 

"  They  capered  like  a  dunno-what-all  on  the 
Big  Smoky,  them  two,  —  the  ofFcer  o'  the  law 
an'  his  posse !  Thar  goin's  on  war  jes'  scandal- 
ous :  they  played  kyerds,  an'  they  consorted 
with  the  moonshiners  over  yander,"  nodding  his 
head  at  the  wilderness,  "  an'  got  ez  drunk  ez 
two  fraish  biled  owels  ;  an'  they  sung  an'  they 
hollered.  An'  they  went  ter  the  meetin'-house 
over  yander  whilst  they  war  in  liquor,  an'  the 
preacher  riz  up  an'  put  'em  out.  He 's  toler'ble 
tough,  that  thar  Pa'son  Kelsey,  an'  kin  hold 
right  smart  show  in  a  fight.  An'  the  dep'ty, 
he  straightened  hisself ,  an'  'lowed  he  war  a  off'- 
cer  o'  the  law.  An'  Pa'son  Kelsey,  he  'lowed 
he  war  a  off'cer  o'  the  law,  an'  he  'lowed  ez  his 
law  war  higher  'n  the  law  o'  Tennessee.  An* 
with  that  he  barred  up  the  door.  They  hed  a 
cornsider'ble  disturbawm£  at  the  meetin'-house 
yander  at  the  Notch,  an'  the  saints  war  tried  in 
thar  temper." 

"  The  dep'ty  'lows  ez  Pa'son  Kelsey  air  crazy 
in  his  mind,"  said  the  man  on  the  stump.  "  The 
dep'ty  said  the  pa'son  talked  ter  him  like  ez  ef  he* 
war  a  onregenerate  critter.     An'  he  'lowed  he 
war  baptized  in  Scolacutta  River  two  year  ago 


52  THE  PROPHET  OF   THE 

an'  better.  The  dep'ty  say  these  hyar  moun- 
ting preachers  hain't  got  no  doctrine  like  the 
valley  folks.  He  called  Pa'son  Kelsey  a  igno- 
rant cuss ! " 

"  Laws-a-massy  !  "  exclaimed  Nathan  Hood- 
endin,  scandalized. 

"  He  say  it  fairly  makes  him  laff  ter  hear 
Pa'son  Kelsey  performin'  like  he  hed  a  cut- 
throat mortgage  on  a  seat  'mongst  the  angels. 
He  say  ez  he  thinks  Pa'son  Kelsey  speaks  with 
more  insurance  'n  enny  man  he  ever  see." 

"I  reckon,  ef  the  truth  war  knowed,  the 
dep'ty  ain't  got  no  religion,  an'  never  war  in 
Scolacutta  River,  'thout  it  war  a-fishin',"  said 
the  blacksmith,  meditatively. 

The  fugitive  from  justice,  pining  for  the  sim- 
ple society  of  his  world,  listened  like  a  starve- 
ling thing  to  these  meagre  details,  so  replete 
with  interest  to  him,  so  full  of  life  and  spirit. 
The  next  moment  he  was  sorry  he  had  come. 

"  That  thar  Amos  Jeemes  air  a  comical  crit- 
ter," said  the  man  on  the  stump,  after  an  inter- 
val of  cogitation,  and  with  a  gurgling  reminis- 
cent laugh.  "He  war  a-cuttin'  up  his  shines 
over  thar  ter  Cayce's  the  t'other  day ;  he  war 
n't  drunk  then,  ye  onderstan'  "  — 

"I  onderstan'.  He  war  jes'  fool,  like  he 
always  air,"  said  the  blacksmith. 

"  Edzactly,"  assented  the  man  on  the  stump, 


GREAT  SMOKY  MOUNTAINS.  53 

"  An'  he  fairly  made  D'rindy  laff  ter  see  what 
the  critter  would  say  nex'.  An'  D'rindy  al- 
ways seemed  ter  me  a  powerful  solemn  sorter 
gal.  Waal,  she  laffed  at  Amos.  Art'  whilst 
him  an'  the  dep'ty  war  a-goin'  down  the  moun- 
ting —  I  went  down  ter  Jeemes's  mill  ter  leave 
some  grist  over  night  ter  be  ground  —  the 
dep'ty,  he  run  Amos  'bout'n  it.  The  dep'ty 
he  'lowed  ez  no  gal  hed  ever  made  so  much  fun 
o'  him,  an'  Amos  'lowed  ez  D'rindy  did  n't 
make  game  o'  him.  She  thunk  too  much  o' 
him  fur  that.  An'  that  bold-faced  dep'ty,  he 
'lowed  he  thought  't  war  him  ez  hed  fund  fa- 
vior.  An'  Amos,  —  we  war  mighty  nigh 
down  in  Eskaqua  Cove  then,  —  he  turned  sud- 
dint  an'  p'inted  up  the  mounting.  '  What  kin 
you-uns  view  on  the  mounting  ? '  he  axed.  The 
dep'ty,  he  stopped  an'  stared ;  an'  thar,  mighty' 
nigh  ez  high  ez  the  lower  e-end  o'  the  bald,  war 
a  light.  '  That  shines  fur  me  ter  see  whilst  I  'm 
'bleeged  ter  be  in  Eskaqua  Cove,'  sez  Amos. 
An'  the  dep'ty  said,  '  I  think  it  air  a  star ! ' 
An'  Amos  sez,  sez  he,  '  Bless  yer  bones,  I  think 
so,  too,  —  sometimes ! '  But  't  war  n't  no  star. 
'T  war  jes'  a  light  in  the  roof-room  window  o' 
Cayce's  house  ;  an'  ye  could  see  it,  sure  enough, 
plumb  to  the  mill  in  Eskaqua  Cove  !  " 

Rick  rose  to  go.     Why  should  he  linger,  and 
wring  his  heart,  and  garner  bitterness  to  feed 


54  THE  PROPHET  OF   THE 

upon  in  his  lonely  days  ?  Why  should  he  look 
upon  the  outer  darkness  of  his  life,  and  dream 
of  the  star  that  shone  so  far  for  another  man's 
sake  into  the  sheltered  depths  of  Eskaqua  Cove  ? 
He  had  an  impulse  which  he  scorned,  for  his 
sight  was  blurred  as  he  laid  his  hand  on  the 
pommel  of  his  saddle.  He  did  not  see  that  one 
of  the  other  men  rose,  too. 

An  approach,  stealthy,  swift,  and  the  sinewy 
blacksmith  flung  himself  upon  his  prisoner  with 
the  supple  ferocity  of  a  panther. 

"  Naw  —  naw  !  "  he  said,  showing  his  strong 
teeth,  closely  set.  "  We  can't  part  with  ye  yit, 
Rick  Tyler  !  I'll  arrest  you-uns,  ef  the  sher'ff 
can't.  The  peace  o'  Big  Smoky  an'  the  law 
o'  the  land  air  ez  dear  ter  me  ez  ter  enny  other 
man." 

The  young  fellow  made  a  frantic  effort  to 
mount ;  then,  as  his  horse  sprang  snorting  away, 
he  strove  to  draw  one  of  his  pistols.  There 
was  a  turbulent  struggle  under  the  great  silver 
moon  and  the  dead  trees.  Again  and  again  the 
swaying  figures  and  their  interlocked  shadows 
reeled  to  the  verge  of  the  cliff  ;  one  striving  to 
fall  and  carry  the  other  with  him,  the  other 
straining  every  nerve  to  hold  back  his  captive. 

Even  the  storekeeper  stood  up  and  wheezed 
out  a  remonstrance. 

"  Look  -  a  -  hyar,  boys  "  —  he  began ;    thenr 


GREAT  SMOKY  MOUNTAINS.  55 

"  Jer'miah,"  he  broke  off  abruptly,  as  the  hope- 
ful scion  peered  shyly  out  of  the  store  door, 
"clar  out'n  the  way,  sonny;  they  hev  got 
shootin'-irons,  an'  some  o'  em  mought  go  off." 

He  himself  stepped  prudently  back.  The 
jman  on  the  stump,  however,  forgot  danger  in 
his  excitement.  He  sat  and  watched  the  scene 
with  an  eager  relish  which  might  suggest  that 
a  love  of  bull-fights  is  not  a  cultivated  taste. 

"  Be  them  men  a-wrastlin'  ?  "  called  out  a 
woman,  appearing  in  the  doorway  of  a  neigh- 
boring house. 

"  'Pears  like  it  ter  me,"  he  said,  dryly. 

The  strength  of  despair  had  served  to  make 
the  younger  man  the  blacksmith's  equal,  and 
the  contest  might  have  terminated  differently 
had  Rick  Tyler  not  stumbled  on  a  ledge.  He 
was  forced  to  his  knees,  then  full  upon  the 
ground,  his  antagonist's  grasp  upon  his  throat. 
The  blacksmith  roared  out  for  help ;  the  man 
on  the  stump  slowly  responded,  and  the  store- 
keeper languidly  came  and  overlooked  the 
operation,  as  the  young  fellow  was  disarmed 
and  securely  bound,  hand  and  foot. 

"  Waal,  now,  Gid  Fletcher,  ye  hev  got  him," 
said  Nathan  Hoodendin.  "  What  d'  ye  want 
with  him  ?  " 

The  blacksmith  had  risen,  panting,  with  wild 
eyes,  his  veins  standing  out  in  thick  cords,  per- 


66  THE  PROPHET  OF  THE 

spiring  from  every  pore,  and  in  a  bounding 
fury. 

"  What  do  I  want  with  him  ?  I  want  ter 
put  his  head  on  my  anvil  thar,  an'  beat  the 
foolishness  out'n  it  with  my  hammer.  I  want 
ter  kick  him  off  n  this  hyar  bluff  down  ter  the 
forge  fires  o'  hell.  That  air  what  /want.  An' 
the  State  o'  Tennessee  ain't  wantin'  much 
differ." 

"  Gid  Fletcher,"  said  the  man  who  had  been 
sitting  on  the  stump, — he  spoke  in  an  accusing 
voice,  — "  ye  ain't  keerin'  nuthin'  fur  the  law 
o'  the  land,  nor  the  peace  o'  Big  Smoky,  nuther. 
It  air  jes'  that  two  hunderd  dollars  blood  money 
ye  air  cottonin'  ter,  an'  ye  knows  it." 

The  love  of  money,  the  root  of  evil,  is  so  rare 
in  the  mountains  that  the  blacksmith  stood  as 
before  a  deep  reproof.  Then,  with  a  moral 
hardihood  that  matched  his  physical  prowess, 
he  asked,  "  An'  what  ef  I  be  ?  " 

"  What  war  I  a-tellin'  you-uns  ?  Satan  's 
a-stirrin',  —  Satan  's  a-stirrin'  on  the  Big 
Smoky  !  "  interpolated  old  Hoodendin. 

"Waal,  I'd  never  hev  been  hankerin'  fur 
sech,"  drawled  the  moralist. 

A  number  of  other  men  had  come  out  from 
the  houses,  and  a  discussion  ensued  as  to  the 
best  plan  to  keep  the  prisoner  until  morning. 
It  was  suggested  that  the  time-honored  ex- 


GREAT  SMOKY  MOUNTAINS.  57 

pedient  in  localities  without  the  civilization  of 
a  jail  —  a  wagon-body  inverted,  with  a  rock 
upon  it  —  would  be  as  secure  as  the  state 
prison. 

"  But  who  wants  ter  go  ter  hef  tin'  rocks  ?  " 
asked  Nathan  Hoodendin,  pertinently. 

For  the  sake  of  convenience,  therefore,  they 
left  the  prisoner  bound  with  a  rope  made  fast 
around  a  stump,  that  he  might  not,  in  his  des- 
peration, roll  himself  from  the  crag,  and  de- 
puting a  number  of  the  men  to  watch  him  by 
turns,  the  Settlement  retired  to  its  slumbers. 

The  night  wore  on ;  the  moon  journeyed 
toward  the  mountains  in  the  west ;  the  mists 
rose  to  meet  it,  and  glistened  like  a  silver  sea. 
Some  lonely,  undiscovered  ocean,  this  ;  never  a 
sail  set,  never  a  pennant  flying ;  all  the  valley 
was  submerged ;  the  black  summits  in  the  dis- 
tance were  isolated  and  insular  ;  the  moonlight 
glanced  on  the  sparkling  ripples,  on  the  long 
reaches  of  illusive  vapor. 

At  intervals  cocks  crew ;  a  faint  response, 
like  farthest  echoes,  came  from  some  neighbor- 
ing cove ;  and  then  silence,  save  for  the  drone 
of  the  nocturnal  insects  and  the  far  blast  of  a 
hunter's  horn. 

"Jer'miah,"  said  Rick  Tyler,  suddenly,  as 
the  boy  crouched  by  one  of  the  stumps  and 
watched  him  with  dilated,  moonlit  eyes,  — 


68  THE  PROPHET  OF  THE 

when  Nathan  Hoodendin's  vigil  came  the  little 
factotum  served  in  his  stead,  —  "  Jer'miah,  git 
my  knife  out  'n  the  store  an'  cut  these  hyar 
ropes.  I  '11  gin  ye  my  rifle  ef  ye  will." 

The  boy  sprang  up,  scudded  off  swiftly,  then 
came  back,  and  crouched  by  the  stump  again. 

The  moon  slipped  lower  and  lower ;  the  sil- 
ver sea  had  turned  to  molten  gold;  the  stars 
that  had  journeyed  westward  with  the  moon 
were  dying  out  of  a  dim  blue  sky.  Over  the 
corn-field  in  the  east  was  one  larger  than  the 
rest,  burning  in  an  amber  haze,  charged  with 
an  unspoken  poetical  emotion  that  set  its  heart 
of  white  fire  aquiver. 

"  I  '11  gin  ye  my  horse  ef  ye  will." 

"  I  dassent,"  said  Jer'miah. 

The  morning  star  was  burned  out  at  last,  and 
the  prosaic  day  came  over  the  corn-field. 


GREAT  SMOKY  MOUNTAINS.  59 


III. 

TWILIGHT  was  slipping  down  on  the  Big 
Smoky.  Definiteness  was  annihilated,  and  dis- 
tance a  suggestion.  Mountain  forms  lay  dark- 
ening along  the  horizon,  still  flushed  with  the 
sunset.  Eskaqua  Cove  had  abysmal  sugges- 
tions, and  the  ravines  were  vague  glooms.  Fire- 
flies were  aflicker  in  the  woods.  There  might 
be  a  star,  outpost  of  the  night. 

Dorinda,  hunting  for  the  vagrant  "  crumply 
cow,"  paused  sometimes  when  the  wandering 
path  led  to  the  mountain's  brink,  and  looked 
down  those  gigantic  slopes  and  unmeasured 
depths.  She  carried  her  milk-piggin,  and  her 
head  was  uncovered.  Now  and  then  she  called 
with  long,  vague  vowels,  "Soo  —  cow!  Soo!" 
There  was  no  response  save  the  echoes  and  the 
vibrant  iteration  of  the  katydid.  Once  she 
heard  an  alien  sound,  and  she  paused  to  listen. 
From  the  projecting  spur  where  she  stood, 
looking  across  the  Cove,  she  could  see,  above 
the  forests  on  the  slopes,  the  bare,  uprising 
dome,  towering  in  stupendous  proportions 
against  the  sky.  The  sound  came  again  and 
yet  again,  and  she  recognized  the  voice  of  the 


60  THE  PROPHET  OF  THE 

man  who  was  wont  to  go  and  pray  in  the  desert 
places  on  the  "  bald "  of  the  mountain,  and 
whom  she  had  likened  to  the  prophets  of  old. 
There  was  something  indescribably  wild  and 
weird  in  those  appealing,  tempestuous  tones, 
now  rising  as  in  frenzy,  and  now  falling  as  with 
exhaustion,  —  beseeching,  adjuring,  reproaching. 

"  He  hev  fairly  beset  the  throne  o'  grace  !  " 
she  said,  with  a  sort  of  pity  for  this  insistent 
piety.  A  shivering,  filmy  mist  was  slipping 
down  over  the  great  dome.  It  glittered  in  the 
last  rays  of  the  sunlight,  already  vanished  from 
the  world  below,  like  an  illuminated  silver 
gauze.  She  was  reminded  of  the  veil  of  the 
temple,  and  she  had  a  sense  of  intrusion. 

"Prayer,  though,  air  free  for  all,"  she  re- 
marked, as  self-justification,  since  she  had  paused 
to  hear. 

She  did  not  linger.  His  voice  died  in  the 
distance,  and  the  solemnity  of  the  impression 
was  gradually  obliterated.  As  she  went  she 
presently  began  to  sing,  sometimes  interpolat- 
ing, without  a  sense  of  interruption,  her  mellow 
call  of  "Soo — cow!  Soo!  "  until  it  took  the 
semblance  of  a  refrain,  with  an  abrupt  cres- 
cendo. The  wild  roses  were  flowering  along 
the  paths,  and  the  pink  and  white  azaleas,  — 
what  perfumed  ways,  what  lavish  grace  and 
beauty  I  The  blooms  of  the  laurel  in  the  dark- 


GREAT  SMOKY  MOUNTAINS.  61 

ling  places  were  like  a  spangling  of  stars.  Dew 
was  falling,  —  it  dashed  into  her  face  from  the 
boughs  that  interlaced  across  the  unfrequented 
path,  —  and  still  the  light  lingered,  loath  to 
leave.  She  heard  the  stir  of  some  wild  things 
in  the  hollow  of  a  great  tree,  and  then  a  faint, 
low  growl.  She  fancied  she  saw  a  pair  of 
bright  eyes  looking  apprehensively  at  her. 

"  We-uns  hev  got  a  baby  at  our  house,  too,  an' 
we  don't  want  yourn,  ma'am ;  much  obleeged, 
all  the  same,"  she  said,  with  a  laugh.  But  she 
looked  back  with  a  sort  of  pity  for  that  alert 
maternal  fear,  and  she  never  mentioned  to  the 
youngest  brother,  a  persistent  trapper,  the  little 
family  of  raccoons  in  the  woods. 

She  had  forgotten  the  voice  raised  in  impor- 
tunate supplication  on  the  "bald,"  until,  pursu- 
ing the  path,  she  was  led  into  the  road,  hard  by 
a  little  bridge,  or  more  properly  culvert,  which 
had  rotted  long  ago  ;  the  vines  came  up  through 
the  cavities  in  the  timbers,  and  a  blackberry 
bush,  with  a  wren's  nest,  flourished  in  their 
midst.  The  road  was  fain  to  wade  through  the 
stream ;  but  the  channel  was  dry  now,  —  a 
narrow  belt  of  yellow  sand  lying  in  a  long  curv- 
ing vista  in  the  midst  of  the  dense  woods.  A 
yoke  of  oxen,  drawing  a  rude  slide,  paused  to 
rest  in  the  middle  of  the  channel,  and  beside 
them  was  a  man,  of  medium  height,  slender 


62  THE  PROPHET  OF  THE 

but  sinewy,  dressed  in  brown  jeans,  his  trousers 
thrust  into  the  legs  of  his  boots,  a  rifle  on  his 
shoulder,  and  a  broad-brimmed  old  wool  hat 
surmounting  his  dark  hair,  that  hung  down  to 
the  collar  of  his  coat.  Her  singing  had  pre- 
pared him  for  her  advent,  but  he  barely  raised 
his  eyes.  That  quick  glance  was  incongruous 
with  his  dullard  aspect ;  it  held  a  spark  of  fire, 
inspiration,  frenzy,  —  who  can  say  ? 

He  spoke  suddenly,  in  a  meek,  drawling 
way,  and  with  the  air  of  submitting  the  prop- 
osition :  — 

"  I  hev  gin  the  beastises  a  toler'ble  hard 
day's  work,  an'  I  'm  a-favorin'  'em  goin' 
home." 

A  long  pause  ensued.  The  oxen  hung  down 
their  weary  heads,  with  the  symbol  of  slavery 
upon  them.  The  smell  of  ferns  and  damp 
mould  was  on  the  air.  Rotting  logs  lay  here 
and  there,  where  the  failing  water  had  stranded 
them.  The  grape-vine,  draping  the  giant  oaks, 
swayed  gently,  and  suggested  an  observation  to 
break  the  silence. 

"  How  air  the  moral  vineyard  a-thrivin'  ? " 
she  asked,  solemnly. 

He  looked  downcast.     "  Toler'ble,  I  reckon." 

"  I  hearn  tell  ez  thar  war  a  right  smart  pas- 
sel  o'  folks  baptized  over  yander  in  Scolacutta 
River,"  she  remarked,  encouragingly. 


GREAT  SMOKY  MOUNTAINS.  63 

"  I  baptized  fourteen." 

She  turned  the  warm  brightness  of  her  eyes 
upon  him.  "  They  hed  all  fund  grace !  "  she 
exclaimed. 

*4  They  'lowed  so.  I  hopes  they  '11  prove  it 
by  thar  works,"  he  said,  without  enthusiasm. 

"  Ye  war  a-prayin'  fur  'em  on  the  bald  ?  "  she 
asked,  apprehending  that  he  accounted  these 
converts  peculiarly  precarious. 

"  Naw,"  he  replied,  with  moody  sincerity ; 
"  I  war  a-prayin'  for  myself." 

There  was  another  pause,  longer  and  more 
awkward  than  before. 

"  What  work  be  you-uns  a-doin'  of  ?  "  asked 
Dorinda,  timidly.  She  quailed  a  trifle  before 
the  uncomprehended  light  in  his  eyes.  It  was 
not  of  her  world,  she  felt  instinctively. 

"  I  hev  ploughed  some,  holpin'  Jonas  Trice, 
an'  hev  been  a-haulin'  wood.  I  tuk  my  rifle 
along,"  he  added,  "  thinkin'  I  mought  see 
suthin'  ez  would  be  tasty  fur  the  old  men's  sup- 
per ez  I  kem  home,  but  I  forgot  ter  look  around 
keen." 

There  was  a  sudden  sound  along  the  road,  — 
a  sound  of  quick  hoof-beats.  Because  of  the 
deep  sand  the  rider  was  close  at  hand  before 
his  approach  was  discovered.  He  drew  rein 
abruptly,  and  they  saw  that  it  was  Gid  Fletcher, 
the  blacksmith  of  the  Settlement. 


64  THE  PROPHET  OF  THE 

"  Hev  you-uns  hearn  tlie  news  ?  "  he  cried, 
excitedly,  as  he  threw  himself  from  the  saddle. 

The  man,  leaning  on  the  rifle,  looked  up, 
with  no  question  in  his  eyes.  There  was  an 
almost  monastic  indifference  to  the  world  sug- 
gested in  his  manner. 

"  Thar  's  a  mighty  disturbamint  at  the  Settle- 
mint.  Las'  night  this  hyar  Rick  Tyler,  — 
what  air  under  indictment  fur  a-killin'  o'  Joel 
Byers,  —  he  kem  a-nosin'  'roun'  the  Settlemint 
a-tryin'  ter  buy  powder  "  — 

Dorinda  stretched  out  her  hand  ;  the  trees 
were  unsteady  before  her  ;  the  few  faint  stars, 
no  longer  pulsating  points  of  light,  described  a 
circle  of  dazzling  gleams.  She  caught  at  the 
yoke  on  the  neck  of  the  oxen  ;  she  leaned  upon 
the  impassive  beast,  and  then  it  seemed  that 
every  faculty  was  merged  in  the  sense  of  hear- 
ing. The  horse  had  moved  away  from  the 
blacksmith,  holding  his  head  down  among  the 
bowlders,  and  snuffing  about  for  the  water  he 
remembered  here  with  a  disappointment  almost 
pathetic. 

"  War  he  tuk  ?  "  demanded  the  preacher. 

"  Percisely  so,"  drawled  the  blacksmith,  with 
a  sub-current  of  elation  in  his  tone. 

There  was  a  sudden  change  in  Kelsey's  man- 
ner. He  turned  fiery  eyes  upon  the  black- 
smith. Light  and  life  were  in  every  line  of  his 


GREAT  SMOKY  MOUNTAINS.  65 

face.  He  drew  himself  up  tense  and  erect ;  he 
stretched  forth  his  hand  with  an  accusing  ges- 
ture. 

"  'T  war  you-uns,  Gid  Fletcher,  ez  tuk  the 
boy ! " 

"  Lord,  pa'son,  how  'd  you-uns  know  that  ?  " 
exclaimed  the  blacksmith.  His  manner  com- 
bined a  deference,  which  in  civilization  we  rec- 
cognize  as  respect  for  the  cloth,  with  the  easy 
familiarity,  induced  by  the  association  since 
boyhood,  of  equals  in  age  and  station.  "  I  hed 
n't  let  on  a  word,  hed  I,  D'rindy  ?  " 

The  idea  of  an  abnormal  foreknowledge, 
mysteriously  possessed,  had  its  uncanny  influ- 
ences. The  lonely  woods  were  darkening 
about  them.  The  stars  seemed  very  far  off. 
A  rotting  log  in  the  midst  of  the  de*bris  of  the 
stream,  in  a  wild  tangle  of  underbrush  and 
shelving  rocks,  showed  fox-fire  and  glowed  in 
the  glooms. 

"I  knowed,"  said  Kelsey,  contemptuously 
waiving  the  suggestion  of  miraculous  forecast, 
"  bekase  the  sher'ff  hain't  been  in  the  Big 
Smoky  for  two  weeks,  an'  that  thar  danglin' 
shadder  o'  his'n  rid  off  las'  Monday  from 
Jeemes's  Mill  in  Eskaqua  Cove.  An'  the  con- 
stable o'  the  deestric  air  sick  abed  So  I  'lowed 
'twar  you-uns." 

"  An'  why  air  it  me  more  'n  enny  other  man 


66  THE  PROPHET  OF  THE 

at  the  Settlemint?"  The  blacksmith's  blood 
was  rising ;  his  sensibilities  descried  a  covert 
taunt  which  as  yet  his  slower  intelligence  failed 
to  comprehend. 

"  An'  ye  hev  rid  with  speed  fur  the  sher'ff  — 
or  mebbe  ter  overhaul  the  dep'ty  —  ter  come 
an'  jail  the  prisoner  afore  he  gits  away." 

"An'  why  me,  more 'n  the  t'others?"  de- 
manded the  blacksmith. 

"  Yer  heart  air  ez  hard  ez  yer  anvil,  Gid 
Fletcher,"  said  the  mind-reader.  "  Thar  ain't 
another  man  on  the  Big  Smoky  ez  would  stir 
himself  ter  gin  over  ter  the  gallus  or  the  pen'- 
tiary  the  frien'  ez  trested  him,  who  hev  done 
no  harm,  but  hev  got  tangled  in  a  twist  of  a 
unjest  law.  Ef  the  law  tuk  him,  that 's  a 
differ." 

"  'T  ain't  fur  we-uns  ter  jedge  o'  the  law  ! " 
exclaimed  Gid  Fletcher,  his  logic  sharpened  by 
the  anxiety  of  his  greed  and  his  pridef  ul  self- 
esteem.  "  Let  the  law  jedge  o'  his  crime." 

"  Jes'  so ;  let  the  law  take  him,  an'  let  the 
law  try  him.  The  law  is  ekal  ter  it.  Ef  the 
sher'ff  summons  me  with  his  posse,  I  '11  hunt 
Rick  Tyler  through  all  the  Big  Smoky  "  — 

"  Look-a-hyar,  Hi  Kelsey,  the  Gov'nor  o' 
Tennessee  hev  offered  a  reward  o'  two  hunderd 
dollars  "  — 

"  Blood  money,"  interpolated  the  parson. 


GREAT  SMOKY  MOUNTAINS.  67 

"Ye  kin  call  it  so,  ef  so  minded ;  but  ef  it 
war  right  fur  the  Gov'nor  ter  offer  it,  it  air 
right  fur  me  ter  yearn  it." 

He  had  come  very  close.  It  was  his  nature 
and  his  habit  to  brook  no  resistance.  He  sub- 
dued the  hard  metals  upon  his  anvil.  His 
hammer  disciplined  the  iron.  The  fire  wrought 
his  will.  His  instinct  was  to  forge  this  man's 
opinion  into  the  likeness  of  his  own.  His  con- 
viction was  the  moral  swage  that  must  shape 
the  belief  of  others. 

"  It  air  lawful  fur  me  ter  yearn  it,"  he  re- 
peated. 

"  Lawful !  "  exclaimed  the  parson,  with  a 
tense,  jeering  laugh.  "  Judas  war  a  law-abid- 
in'  citizen.  He  mos'  lawfully  betrayed  his 
Frien'  ter  the  law.  Them  thirty  pieces  o'  sil- 
ver! Sech  currency  ain't  out  o?  circulation 
yit!" 

Quick  as  a  flash  the  blacksmith's  heavy  hand 
struck  the  prophet  in  the  face.  The  next  mo- 
ment his  sudden  anger  was  merged  in  fear. 
He  stood,  unarmed,  at  the  mercy  of  an  assaulted 
and  outraged  man,  with  a  loaded  rifle  in  his 
hands,  and  all  the  lightnings  of  heaven  quiver- 
ing in  his  angry  eyes. 

Gid  Fletcher  had  hardly  time  to  draw  the 
breath  he  thought  his  last,  when  the  prophet 
slowly  turned  the  other  cheek. 


68  THE  PROPHET  OF  THE 

"  In  the  name  of  the  Master,"  he  said,  with 
all  the  dignity  of  his  calling. 

As  the  blacksmith  mounted  his  horse  and 
rode  away,  he  felt  that  the  parson's  rifle-ball 
would  be  preferable  to  the  gross  slur  that  he 
had  incurred.  His  reputation,  moral  and  spirit- 
ual, was  annihilated  ;  and  he  held  this  dear,  for 
piety,  or  its  simulacrum,  on  the  primitive  Big 
Smoky,  is  the  point  of  honor.  What  a  text ! 
What  an  illustration  of  iniquity  he  would  fur- 
nish for  the  sermons,  foretelling  wrath  and  ven- 
geance, that  sometimes  shook  the  Big  Smoky 
to  its  foundations  !  He  was  cast  down,  and  in- 
dignant too. 

"  Fur  Hi  Kelsey  ter  be  a-puttin'  up  sech  a 
pious  mouth,  an'  a-turnin'  the  t'other  cheek, 
an'  sech,  ter  me,  ez  hev  seen  him  hold  his  own 
ez  stiff  in  a  many  a  free-handed  fight,  an'  hev 
drawed  his  shootin'-irons  on  folks  agin  an'  agin  ! 
An'  he  fairly  tuk  the  dep'ty,  at  that  thar  dis- 
turbamint  at  the  meet'n'- house,  by  the  scruff 
o'  the  neck,  an'  shuck  him  ez  ef  he  hed  been  a 
rat  or  suthin',  an'  drapped  him  out'n  the  door. 
An'  now  ter  be  a-turnin'  the  t'other  cheek  ! 
An'  thar  's  that  thar  D'rindy,  a-seein'  it  all,  an* 
a-lookin'  at  it  ez  wide-eyed  ez  a  cat  in  the  dark." 

Dorinda  went  home  planning  a  rescue. 
Against  the  law  this  probably  was,  she  thought, 
"  Ef  it  air  —  it  ought  n't  ter  be,"  she  con« 


GREAT  8MOKT  MOUNTAINS.  69 

eluded,  arbitrarily.  "It  don't  hurt  nobody." 
How  serious  it  was  —  a  felony  —  she  did  not 
know,  nor  did  she  care.  She  went  on  sturdily, 
debating  within  herself  how  best  to  tell  the 
news.  With  an  intuitive  knowledge  of  human 
nature,  she  reckoned  on  the  prejudice  aroused 
by  the  recital  of  the  blacksmith's  assault  upon 
the  preacher  and  the  forbearance  of  the  man  of 
God.  She  began  to  count  those  who  would  be 
likely  to  attempt  the  enterprise  when  it  should 
be  suggested.  There  were  the  five  men  at 
home,  all  bold,  reckless,  antagonistic  to  the 
law,  and  at  odds  with  the  sheriff.  She  paused, 
with  a  frightened  face  and  a  wild  gesture  as  if 
to  ward  off  an  unforeseen  danger.  Send  them 
to  meet  him !  Never,  never  would  she  lift  her 
hand  or  raise  her  voice  to  aid  in  fulfilling  that 
grimly  prophesied  death  on  the  muzzle  of  the 
old  rifle-barrel.  She  trembled  at  the  thought 
of  her  precipitancy.  His  life  was  in  her  hand. 
With  a  constraining  moral  sense  she  felt  that 
it  was  she  who  had  placed  it  in  jeopardy,  and 
that  she  held  it  in  trust. 

She  was  cold,  shivering.  There  was  a  change 
in  the  temperature ;  perhaps  hail  had  fallen 
somewhere  near,  for  the  rare  air  had  icy  sug- 
gestions. She  was  seldom  out  so  late,  and  was 
glad  to  see,  high  on  the  slope,  the  light  that 
was  wont  to  shine  like  a  star  into  the  dark 


70  THE  PROPHET  OF  THE 

depths  of  Eskaqua  Cove.  The  white  mists 
gathered  around  it ;  a  circle  of  pearly  light  en- 
compassed it,  like  Saturn's  ring.  As  she  came 
nearer,  the  roof  of  the  house  defined  itself,  with 
its  oblique  ridge-pole  against  the  sky,  and  its 
clay  and  stick  chimney,  also  built  in  defiance  of 
rectangles,  and  its  little  porch,  the  curtaining 
hop-vines,  dripping,  dripping,  with  dew.  In 
the  corner  of  the  rail  fence  was  the  "  crumply 
cow,"  chewing  her  cud. 

The  radiance  of  firelight  streamed  out  through 
the  open  door,  around  which  was  grouped  a 
number  of  shadows,  of  intent  and  wistful  as- 
pect. These  were  the  hounds,  and  they  crowded 
about  her  ecstatically  as  she  came  up  on  the 
porch. 

She  paused  at  the  door,  and  looked  in  with 
melancholy  eyes.  The  light  fell  on  her  face, 
still  damp  with  the  dew,  giving  its  gentle 
curves  a  subdued  glister,  like  marble  ;  the  dark 
blue  of  her  dress  heightened  its  fairness.  A 
sudden  smile  broke  upon  it  as  she  leaned  for- 
ward. There  were  three  men,  Ab,  Pete,  and 
Ben,  seated  around  the  fire  ;  but  she  was  look- 
ing at  none  of  them,  and  they  silently  followed 
her  gaze.  Only  one  pair  of  eyes  met  hers,  — 
the  eyes  of  a  fat  young  person,  wonderfully 
muscular  for  the  tender  age  of  three,  who  sat 
in  the  chimney-corner  in  a  little  wooden  chair, 


GREAT  SMOKY  MOUNTAINS.  71 

and  preserved  the  important  and  impassive  air 
of  a  domestic  magnate.  This  was  hardly  im- 
paired by  his  ill-defined,  infantile  features,  his 
large  tow-head,  his  stolid  blue  eyes,  his  femin- 
ine garb  of  blue-checked  cotton,  short  enough 
to  disclose  sturdy  white  calves  and  two  feet 
with  the  usual  complement  of  toes.  He  looked 
at  her  in  grave  recognition,  but  made  no  sign. 

"  Jacob,"  she  softly  drawled,  "  why  n't  ye  go 
terbed?" 

But  Jacob  was  indisposed  for  conversation  on 
this  theme  ;  he  said  nothing. 

"  Why  n't  you-uns  git  him  ter  bed  ?  "  she 
asked  of  the  assemblage  at  large.  "  He  '11  git 
stunted,  a-settin'  up  so  late  in  the  night." 

"Waal,"  said  one  of  the  huge  jeans-clad 
mountaineers,  taking  his  pipe  from  his  mouth, 
and  scrutinizing  the  subject  of  conversation, 
"  I  'low  it  takes  more  'n  three  full-grown  men 
ter  git  that  thar  survigrus  buzzard  ter  bed 
when  he  don't  want  ter  go  thar,  an'  we  war  n't 
a-goin'  ter  resk  it." 

"  I  did  ax  him  ter  go  ter  bed,  D'rindy,"  said 
another  of  the  bearded  giants,  "  but  he  'lowed 
he  would  n't.  I  never  see  a  critter  so  pom- 
pered  ez  Jacob ;  he  ain't  got  no  medjure  o'  res- 
pec'  fur  nobody." 

The  subject  of  these  strictures  gazed  uncon- 
cernedly first  at  one  speaker,  then  at  the  other. 


72  THE  PROPHET  OF  THE 

Dorinda  still  looked  at  him,  her  face  trans- 
figured by  its  tender  smile.  But  she  was  fain 
to  exert  her  authority.  "  Waal,  Jacob,"  she 
said,  decisively,  "ye  mus'  gin  yer  cornsent  ter 
go  ter  bed,  arter  a  while." 

Jacob  calmly  nodded.  He  expected  to  go  to 
bed  some  time  that  night. 

The  hounds  had  taken  advantage  of  Dorin- 
da's  entrance  to  creep  into  the  room  and  adjust 
themselves  among  the  family  group  about  the 
fire.  One  of  them,  near  Jacob,  lured  by  the 
tempting  plumpness,  put  out  a  long  red  tongue, 
and  gave  a  furtive  lick  to  his  fat  white  leg. 
The  little  mountaineer  promptly  doubled  his 
plucky  fist,  and  administered  a  sharp  blow  on 
the  black  nose  of  the  offender,  whose  yelp  of 
repentant  pain  attracted  attention  to  the  canine 
intruders.  Ab  Cayce  rose  to  his  feet  with  an 
oath.  There  was  a  shrill  chorus  of  anguish  as 
he  actively  kicked  them  out  with  his  great  cow- 
hide boots. 

"  Git  out'n  hyar,  ye  dad-burned  beastises ! 
I  hev  druv  ye  out  fifty  times  sence  sundown ; 
now  stay  druv !  " 

He  emphasized  the  lesson  with  several  gra- 
tuitous kicks  after  the  room  and  the  porch  were 
fairly  cleared.  But  before  he  was  again  seated 
the  dogs  were  once  more  clustered  about  the 
door,  with  intent  bobbing  heads  and  glistening 


GREAT  SMOKY  MOUNTAINS.  73 

eyes  that  peered  in  wistfully,  with  a  longing 
for  the  society  of  their  human  friends,  and  a 
pathetic  anxiety  to  be  accounted  of  the  family 
circle. 

There  was  more  stir  than  usual  in  the  inter- 
val between  supper  and  bedtime.  During  the 
three  memorable  days  that  Dorinda  had  so- 
journed in  Tuckaleechee  Cove  Miranda  Jane's 
ineffective  administration  had  resulted  in  do- 
mestic chaos  in  several  departments.  The  lan- 
tern by  which  the  cow  was  to  be  milked  was 
nowhere  to  be  found.  The  filly-like  Miranda 
Jane,  with  her  tousled  mane  and  black  forelock 
hanging  over  her  eyes,  was  greatly  distraught 
in  the  effort  to  remember  where  it  had  been 
put  and  for  what  it  had  been  last  used,  and 
was  "  plumb  beat  out  and  beset,"  she  declared, 
as  she  cantered  in  and  cantered  out,  and  took 
much  exercise  in  the  search,  to  little  purpose. 
One  of  the  men  rose  presently,  and  addressed 
himself  to  the  effort.  He  found  it  at  last,  and 
handed  it  to  Dorinda  without  a  word.  He 
did  not  offer  to  milk  the  cow,  as  essentially 
a  feminine  task,  in  the  mountains,  as  to  sew  or 
knit.  When  she  came  back  she  sat  down  among 
them  in  the  chair  usually  occupied  by  her  grand- 
mother, —  who  had  in  her  turn  gone  on  a  visit 
to  "  Aunt  Jerushy  "  in  Tuckaleechee  Cove,  — 
and  as  she  busied  herself  in  putting  on  her  nee- 


74  THE  PROPHET  OF  THE 

dies  a  sizable  stocking  for  Jacob  she  did  not 
join  in  the  fragmentary  conversation. 

Ab  Cayce,  the  eldest,  talked  fitfully  as  he 
smoked  his  pipe,  —  a  lank,  lantern- jawed  man, 
with  a  small,  gleaming  eye  and  a  ragged  beard. 
The  youngest  of  the  brothers,  Solomon,  was  like 
him,  except  that  his  long  chin,  of  the  style  fa- 
miliarly denominated  jimber-jawed,  was  still 
smooth  and  boyish,  and,  big-boned  as  he  was, 
he  lacked  in  weight  and  somewhat  in  height 
the  proportions  of  the  senior.  Peter  was  the 
contentious  member  of  the  family.  He  was 
wont  to  bicker  in  solitary  disaffection,  until  he 
seemed  to  disprove  the  adage  that  it  takes  two 
to  make  a  quarrel.  He  was  afflicted  with  a 
stammer,  and  at  every  obstruction  his  voice 
broke  out  with  startling  shrillness,  several  keys 
higher  than  the  tone  with  which  the  sentence 
commenced.  He  was  loose-jointed  and  had  a 
shambling  gait ;  his  hair  seemed  never  to  have 
outgrown  the  bleached,  colorless  tone  so  com- 
mon among  the  children  of  the  mountains,  and 
it  hung  in  long  locks  of  a  dreary  drab  about  his 
sun-embrowned  face.  His  teeth  were  irregular, 
and  protruded  slightly.  "Ez  hard-favored  ez 
Pete  Cayce,"  was  a  proverb  on  the  Big  Smoky. 
His  wrangles  about  the  amount  of  seed  neces- 
sary to  sow  to  the  acre,  and  his  objurgation 
concerning  the  horse  he  had  been  ploughing 
with  that  day,  filled  the  evening. 


GREAT  SMOKY  MOUNTAINS.  75 

"  Thar  ain't  a  darned  fool  on  the  Big  Smoky 
ez  dunno  that  thar  say  in'  'bout  'n  the  beast- 

ises :  — 

'  One  white  huff  —  buy  him  ; 
Two  white  huffs  —  try  him  ; 
Three  white  huffs  —  deny  him  ; 
Four  white  huffs  an'  a  white  nose — 
Take  off  his  hide  an'  feed  him  ter  the  crows.'  " 

Outside,  the  rising  wind  wandered  fitfully 
through  the  Great  Smoky,  like  a  spirit  of  un- 
rest. The  surging  trees  in  the  wooded  vastnesa 
on  every  side  filled  the  air  with  the  turbulent 
sound  of  their  commotion.  The  fire  smouldered 
on  the  hearth.  The  room  was  visible  in  the 
warm  glow :  the  walls,  rich  and  mellow  with 
the  alternate  dark  shade  of  the  hewn  logs  and 
the  dull  yellow  of  the  "  daubin' ; "  the  great 
frame  of  the  warping-bars,  hung  about  with 
scarlet  and  blue  and  saffron  yarn ;  the  brilliant 
strings  of  red  pepper,  swinging  from  the  rafters. 
The  spinning-wheel,  near  the  open  door,  re- 
volved slightly,  with  a  stealthy  motion,  when 
the  wind  touched  it,  as  though  some  invisible 
woodland  thing  had  half  a  mind  for  uncanny 
industrial  experiments. 

Dorinda  told  her  news  at  last,  in  few  words 
and  with  what  composure  she  could  command. 
As  the  listeners  broke  into  surprised  ejacula- 
tions and  comments,  she  sat  gazing  silently  at 
the  fire.  Should  she  speak  the  thought  near- 


76  THE  PROPHET  OF  THE 

est  her  heart  ?  Should  she  suggest  a  rescue  ? 
She  was  torn  by  contending  terrors,  —  fears  for 
them,  for  the  man  in  his  primitive  shackles  at 
the  Settlement,  for  the  enemy  whose  life  she 
felt  she  had  jeopardized.  She  had  a  wild  vision 
—  half  in  hope,  half  in  anguish  —  of  her  broth- 
ers, in  the  saddle,  armed  to  the  teeth  and  riding 
like  the  wind.  They  had  not  moved  of  their 
own  accord.  Should  she  urge  them  to  go  ? 

Oh,  never  had  the  long  days  on  the  Big 
Smoky,  never  had  all  the  years  that  had  visibly 
rolled  from  east  to  west  with  the  changing  sea- 
sons, brought  her  so  much  of  life  as  the  last  few 
hours,  —  such  intensity  of  emotion,  such  swift- 
ness  of  thought,  such  baffling  perplexity,  such 
woe! 


GREAT  SMOKY  MOUNTAINS.  77 


IV. 

KELSEY  trudged  on  with  his  slide  and  his 
oxen,  elated  by  his  moral  triumph.  He  glori- 
fied himself  for  his  meekness.  He  joyed,  with 
all  the  turbulent  impulses  of  victory,  in  the 
blacksmith's  discomfiture. 

Yet  he  was  cognizant  of  his  own  deeper, 
subtler  springs  of  action.  There  was  that  within 
him  which  forbade  him  to  take  the  life  of  an 
unarmed  man,  but  he  piqued  himself  that  he 
forbore.  He  had  withheld  even  the  return  of 
the  blow.  But  he  knew  that  in  refraining  he 
had  struck  deeper  still.  He  dwelt  upon  the 
scene  with  the  satisfaction  of  an  inventor.  He, 
too,  could  foresee  the  consequences  :  the  blood- 
curdling eloquence ;  the  port  and  pose  of  a 
martyr ;  the  far-spread  distrust  of  the  black- 
smith's professions  of  piety,  under  which  that 
doughty  religionist  already  quaked. 

And  as  he  reflected  he  replied,  tartly,  to  the 
monitor  within,  "  Be  angry  and  sin  not." 

And  the  monitor  had  no  text. 

Because  of  the  night  drifting  down,  perhaps, 
—  drifting  down  with  a  chilling  change ;  be- 
cause of  the  darkened  solemnity  of  the  dreary 


78  THE  PROPHET  OF  THE 

woods ;  because  of  the  stars  shining  with  a 
splendid  aloofness  from  all  that  is  human ;  be- 
cause of  the  melancholy  suggestions  of  a  will- 
o'-the-wisp  glowing  in  a  marshy  tangle,  his  ex- 
ultant mood  began  to  wane. 

"  Thar  it  is !  "  he  cried,  suddenly,  pointing  at 
the  mocking  illusion,  —  "  that 's  my  religion  : 
looks  like  fire,  an'  it 's  fog  !  " 

His  mind  had  reverted  to  his  wild  suppli- 
cations in  the  solitudes  of  the  "  bald,"  —  his 
unanswered  prayers.  The  oxen  had  paused  of 
their  own  accord  to  rest,  and  "he  stood  looking 
at  the  spectral  gleam. 

"  I  'd  never  hev  thunk  o'  takin'  .up  with  re- 
ligion," he  said,  in  a  shrill,  upbraiding  tone, 
"  ef  I  hed  been  let  ter  live  along  like  other  men 
be,  or  ef  me  an'  mine  could  die  like  other  folks 
be  let  ter  die  !  But  it  'peared  ter  me  ez  relig- 
ion war  'bout  all  ez'war  lef,  arter  I  hed  gin  the 
baby  the  stuff  the  valley  doctor  hed  lef  fur 
Em'ly,  —  bein'  ez  I  could  n't  read  right  the  old 
critter's  cur'ous  scrapin's  with  his  pencil,  —  an' 
gin  Em'ly  the  stuff  fur  the  baby.  An'  it  died. 
An'  then  Em'ly  got  onset  tied  an'  crazy,  an'  tuk 
ter  vagrantin'  'roun',  an'  fell  off'n  the  bluff. 
An'  some  say  she  flunged  herself  off'n  it.  And 
I  knows  she  flunged  herself  off'n  it  through 
bein'  out'n  her  mind  with  grief." 

He  paused,  leaning  on  the  yoke,  his  dreary 


GREAT  SMOKY  MOUNTAINS.  79 

eyes  still  on  the  ignis  fatuus  of  the  woods. 
"  An'  then  Brother  Jake  Tobin  'lowed  ez  re- 
ligion war  fur  sech  ez  me.  I  hed  no  mind  ter 
religion.  But  the  worl'  hed  in  an'  about  pe- 
tered out  for  me.  An'  I  tuk  up  with  religion. 
I  hev  sarved  it  five  year  faithful.  An'  now  "  — 
he  cast  his  angry  eyes  upward  —  "  ye  let  me 
believe  that  thar  is  no  God !  " 

So  it  was  that  Satan  hunted  him  like  a  part- 
ridge on  the  mountains.  So  it  was  that  he 
went  out  into  the  desert  places  to  upbraid  the 
God  in  whom  he  believed  because  he  believed 
that  there  was  no  God.  There  was  a  tragedy 
in  his  faith  and  his  unfaith.  That  this  un- 
trained, untutored  mind  should  grope  among  the 
irreconcilable  things,  —  the  problems  of  a  mer- 
ciful God  and  his  afflicted  people,  foreordained 
from  the  beginning  of  the  world  and  free 
agents !  That  to  the  ignorant  mountaineer 
should  come  those  distraught  questions  that  vex 
polemics,  and  try  the  strength  of  theologies, 
and  give  the  wise  men  an  illimitable  field  for 
the  display  of  their  agile  and  ingenious  solutions 
and  substitutions!  He  knew  naught  of  this; 
the  wild  Alleghanies  intervened  between  his 
yearning,  empty  despair  and  their  plenished 
fame,  the  splendid  superstructure  on  the  ruins 
of  their  faith.  He  thought  himself  the  only 
unbeliever  in  a  Christian  world,  the  only  inher- 


80  THE  PROPHET  OF  THE 

ent  infidel ;  a  mysteriously  accursed  creature, 
charged  with  the  discovery  of  the  monstrous 
fallacy  of  that  beneficent  comfort,  assuaging 
the  grief  of  a  stricken  world,  and  called  an 
overruling  Providence.  Again  his  flickering 
faith  would  flare  up,  and  he  would  reproach 
God  who  had  suffered  its  lapse.  This  was  his 
secret  and  his  shame,  and  he  guarded  it.  And 
so  when  he  preached  his  wild  sermons  with  a 
certain  natural  eloquence  ;  and  prayed  his  fran- 
tic prayers,  instinct  with  all  the  sincerities  of 
despair ;  and  sang  with  the  people  the  mourn- 
ful old  hymns  in  the  little  meeting-house  on 
the  notch,  or  on  the  banks  of  the  Scolacutta 
River,  where  they  went  down  to  be  baptized, 
his  keen  introspection,  his  moral  dissent,  which 
he  might  not  forbear,  yet  would  not  avow, 
were  an  intolerable  burden,  and  his  spiritual 
life  was  the  throe  of  a  spiritual  anguish. 

Often  there  was  no  intimation  in  those  ser- 
mons of  his  of  the  quaint  doctrines  which  de- 
light the  simple  men  of  ,his  calling  in  that  re- 
gion, who  are  fain  to  feel  learned.  His  Christ, 
to  judge  from  this  inood,  was  a  Paramount  Emo- 
tion :  not  the  Christ  who  confuted  the  wise  men 
in  the  temple,  and  read  in  the  synagogues,  and 
said  dark  allegories ;  but  he  who  stilled  the 
storm,  and  healed  the  sick,  and  raised  the  dead, 
and  wept,  most  humanly,  for  the  friend  whom 


GREAT  SMOKY  MOUNTAINS.  81 

he  loved.  Kelsey'  s  trusting  heart  contended 
with  his  doubting  mind,  and  the  simple  human- 
ities of  these  sermons  comforted  him.  Some- 
times he  sought  consolation  otherwise ;  he  would 
remember  that  he  had  never  been  like  his  fel- 
lows. This  was  only  another  manifestation  of 
the  dissimilarity  that  dated  from  his  earliest 
recollections.  He  had  from  his  infancy  pecul- 
iar gifts.  He  was  learned  in  the  signs  of  the 
weather,  and  predicted  the  mountain  storms; 
he  knew  the  haunts  and  habits  of  every  beast 
and  bird  in  the  Great  Smoky,  every  leaf  that 
burgeons,  every  flower  that  blows.  So  deep 
and  incisive  a  knowledge  of  human  nature  had 
he  that  this  faculty  was  deemed  supernatural, 
and  akin  to  the  gift  of  prophecy.  He  himself 
understood,  although  perhaps  he  could  not  have 
accurately  limited  and  denned  it,  that  he  exer- 
cised unconsciously  a  vigilant  attention  and  an 
acute  discrimination  ;  his  forecast  was  based 
upon  observation  so  close  and  unsparing,  and  a 
power  of  deduction  so  just,  that  in  a  wider 
sphere  it  might  have  been  called  judgment,  and, 
reinforced  by  education,  have  attained  all  the 
functions  of  a  ripened  sagacity. 

Crude  as  it  was,  it  did  not  fail  of  recognition. 
In  many  ways  his  "word"  was  sought  and 
heeded.  His  influence  yielded  its  richest  ef- 
fect when  his  confrere  of  the  pulpit  would  call 


82  THE  PROPHET  OF  THE 

on  him  to  foretell  the  fate  of  the  sinner  and  the 
wrath  of  God  to  the  Big  Smoky.  And  then 
Brother  Jake  Tobin  would  accompany  the  glow- 
ing picture  by  a  slow  rhythmic  clapping  of 
hands  and  a  fragmentary  chant,  "  That  dread- 
ful Day  air  a-comin'  along  !  " —  bearing  all  the 
time  a  smiling  and  beatific  countenance,  as  if 
he  were  fireproof  himself,  and  brimstone  and 
flame  were  only  for  his  friends. 

Rousing  himself  from  his  reverie  with  a  sigh, 
Hiram  Kelsey  urged  the  oxen  along  the  sandy 
road,  which  had  here  and  there  a  stony  inter- 
val threatening  the  slide  with  dissolution  at 
every  jolt.  They  began  presently  to  quicken 
their  pace  of  their  own  accord.  The  encom- 
passing woods  and  the  laurel  were  so  dense 
that  no  gleam  of  light  was  visible  till  they 
brought  up  suddenly  beside  a  rail  fence,  and 
the  fitful  glimmer  of  firelight  from  an  open 
door  close  at  hand  revealed  the  presence  of  a 
double  log  cabin.  There  was  an  uninclosed 
passage  between  the  two  rooms,  and  in  this  a 
tall,  gaunt  woman  was  standing. 

"  Thar  be  Hi  now,  with  the  steers,"  she  said, 
detecting  the  dim  bovine  shadows  in  the  flick- 
ering gleams. 

"  Tell  Hiram  ter  come  in  right  now,"  cried  a 
chirping  voice,  like  a  superannuated  cricket. 
"  I  hev  a  word  ter  ax  him." 


GREAT  SMOKY  MOUNTAINS.  83 

"  Tell  Hiram  ter  feed  them  thar  steers  fust," 
cried  out  another  ancient  voice,  keyed  several 
tones  lower,  and  also  with  the  ring  of  author- 
ity. 

"  Tell  Hiram,"  shrilly  piped  the  other,  "  ter 
hustle  his  bones,  ef  he  knows  what  air  good  fur 
'em." 

"  Tell  Hiram,"  said  the  deeper  voice,  sustain- 
ing the  antiphonal  effect,  "  I  want  them  thar 
steers  feded  foreshortly." 

Then  ensued  a  muttered  wrangle  within,  and 
finally  the  shriller  voice  was  again  uplifted: 
"  Tell  Hiram  what  my  word  air." 

"  An'  ye  tell  Hiram  what  my  word  air." 

The  woman,  who  was  tall  as  a  grenadier,  and 
had  a  voice  like  velvet,  looked  meekly  back 
into  the  room,  upon  each  mandate,  with  a  nod 
of  mild  obedience. 

"  Ye  hearn  'em,"  she  said  softly  to  Kelsey. 
Evidently  she  could  not  undertake  the  hazard 
of  discriminating  between  these  coequal  author- 
ities. 

"  I  hearn  'em,"  he  replied. 

She  sat  down  near  the  door,  and  resumed  her 
occupation  of  monotonously  peeling  June  apples 
for  "  sass."  Her  brown  calico  sunbonnet,  which 
she  habitually  wore,  in  doors  and  out,  obscured 
her  visage,  except  her  chin  and  absorbed  mouth, 
that  now  and  then  moved  in  unconscious  sympa- 


84  THE  PROPHET  OF   THE 

thy  with  her  work.  There  was  a  piggin  on  one 
side  of  her  to  receive  the  quartered  fruit,  and 
on  the  other  a  white  oak  splint  basket,  already 
half  full  of  the  spiral  parings.  On  the  door- 
step her  husband  sat,  a  shaggy -headed,  full- 
bearded,  unkempt  fellow,  in  brown  jeans  trou- 
sers reaching  almost  to  his  collar-bone  in  front, 
and  supported  by  the  single  capable  suspender 
so  much  affected  in  the  mountains.  His  un- 
bleached cotton  shirt  was .  open  at  the  throat, 
for  there  was  fire  enough  in  the  huge  chimney- 
place  to  make  the  room  unpleasantly  warm,  de- 
spite the  change  of  temperature  without.  Now 
and  then  he  stretched  out  his  hand  for  an  ap- 
ple already  pared,  which  his  wife  gave  him  with 
an  adroit  back-handed  movement,  and  which  he 
ate  in  a  mouthful  or  two.  He  made  way  for 
Kelsey  to  enter,  and  asked  him  a  question,  al- 
most inarticulate  because  of  the  apples,  but  ap- 
parently of  hospitable  intent,  for  Kelsey  said  he 
had  had  a  bite  and  a  sup  at  Jonas  Trice's,  and 
did  not  want  the  supper  which  had  been  pro- 
vidently saved  for  him. 

Kelsey  did  not  betray  which  command  he 
had  thought  best  to  obeyC 

"  I  hed  ter  put  my  rifle  on  the  rack  in  the 
t'other  room,  gran'dad,"  he  observed  meekly, 
addressing  one  of  two  very  old  men  who  sat  on 
either  side  of  the  huge  fireplace.  There  were 


GREAT  SMOKY  MOUNTAINS.  85 

cushions  in  their  rude  arm-chairs,  and  awkward 
little  three-legged  footstools  were  placed  in 
front  of  them.  Their  shoes  and  clothing,  al- 
though coarse  to  the  last  degree,  were  clean  and 
carefully  tended.  They  had  each  long  ago  lived 
out  the  allotted  threescore  years  and  ten,  but 
they  had  evidently  not  worn  out  their  welcome. 
One  had  suffered  a  paralytic  attack,  and  every 
word  and  motion  was  accompanied  with  a  con- 
vulsive gasp  and  jerk.  The  other  old  man  was 
saturnine  and  lymphatic,  and  seemed  a  trifle 
younger  than  his  venerable  associate. 

"  What  war  ye  a-doin'  of  with  yer  rifle  ?  " 
mumbled  "gran 'dad,"  in  wild,  toothless  haste. 

"  I  tuk  it  along  ter  see,  when  I  war  a-comin' 
home,  ef  I  mought  shoot  suthin'  tasty  for  sup- 
per." 

"  What  did  ye  git  ?  "  demanded  gran'dad, 
with  retrospective  greed  ;  for  supper  was  over, 
and  he  had  done  full  justice  to  his  share. 

*'  I  never  got  nuthin',"  said  Kelsey,  a  trifle 
shamefacedly. 

"  Waal,  waal,  waal !  These  hyar  latter  times 
gits  cur'ouser  ez  they  goes  along.  The  stren'th 
an'  the  seasonin'  hev  all  gone  out'n  the  Ian'. 
Whenst  I  war  young,  folks  ez  kerried  rifles  ter 
git  suthin'  fur  supper  never  kem  home  a-suck- 
in'  the  bar'l.  Folks  ez  kerried  rifles  in  them 
days  didn't  tote  'em  fur  —  fur  —  a  ornamint. 


86  THE  PROPHET  OF  THE 

Folks  in  them  days  lef  preachin'  an'  prophecy 
an'  sech  ter  thar  elders,  an'  hunted  the  beastis 
an'  the  Injun',  —  though  sinners  is  plentier 
than  the  t'other  kind  o'  game  on  the  Big  Smoky 
these  times.  No  man,  in  them  days,  jes'  turned 
thirty  sot  hisself  down  ter  idlin',  an'  preachin', 
an'  convictin'  his  elders  o'  sin." 

Kelsey  bore  himself  with  the  deferential  hu- 
mility characteristic  of  the  mountaineers  to- 
ward the  aged  among  them. 

"  What  war  the  word  ez  ye  war  a-layin'  off 
ter  say  ter  me,  gran'dad?"  he  asked,  striving 
to  effect  a  diversion. 

"Waal,  waal,  look-a-hyar,  Hiram!"  ex- 
claimed the  old  man,  remembering  his  question 
in  eager  precipitancy.  "  This  hyar  'Cajah 
Green,  ye  know,  ez  air  a-runnin'  fur  sher'ff  — 
air  —  air  he  Republikin  or  Dimmycrat  ?  " 

"  Thar 's  no  man  in  these  hyar  parts  smart 
enough  ter  find  that  out,"  interpolated  Obediah 
Scruggs  in  the  door,  circumspectly  taking  the 
apple  seeds  out  of  his  mouth.  He  was  the  son 
of  one  of  the  magnates,  and  the  son-in-law  of 
the  other  ;  his  matrimonial  venture  had  resulted 
in  doubling  his  filial  obligations.  His  wife  had 
brought,  instead  of  a  dowry,  her  aged  father  to 
the  fireside. 

"  'Cajah  Green,"  continued  the  speaker,  "  run 
ez  a  independent  las'  time,  an'  thar  war  so  many 


GREAT  SMOKY  MOUNTAINS.  87 

bolters  an'  sech  they  split  the  vote,  an'  he  war 
'lected.  An'  now  he  air  a-runnin'  agin." 

The  old  man  listened  to  this  statement,  his 
eye  blazing,  his  chin  in  a  quiver,  his  lean  figure 
erect,  and  the  pipe  in  his  palsied  hand  shaking 
till  the  coal  of  fire  on  top  showed  brightening 
tendencies. 

"  Waal,  sir !  waal !  "  exclaimed  the  aged  poli- 
tician, with  intense  bitterness.  "  The  stren'th 
an'  the  seasonin'  hev  all  gone  out'n  the  Ian'  I 
Whenst  I  war  young,"  he  declared  dramatically, 
drawing  the  pitiable  contrast,  "  folks  knowed 
what  they  war,  an'  they  let  other  folks  know, 
too,  ef  they  hed  ter  club  it  inter  'em.  But 
them  was  Old  Hickory's  times.  Waal,  waal, 
we  ain't  a-goin'  ter  see  Old  Hickory  no  more 
—  no  —  more  !  " 

"  I  hopes  not,"  said  the  other  old  man,  with 
sudden  asperity.  "  I  hopes  we  '11  never  see  no 
sech  tormentin'  old  Dimmycrat  agin.  But  law  ! 
I  need  n't  fret  my  soul.  Henry  Clay  shook  all 
the  life  out'n  him  five  year  afore  he  died. 
Henry  Clay  made  a  speech  agin  Andrew  Jack- 
son in  1840  what  forty  thousan'  people  kem  ter 
hear.  Thar  war  a  man  fur  ye !  ~He  hed  a 
tongue  like  a  bell ;  'pears  like  ter  me  I  kin 
hear  it  yit,  when  I  listens  right  hard.  By 
Gum  !  "  triumphantly,  "  that  day  he  tuk  the 
BtifEenin'  out'n  Old  Hickory  I  Surely,  surely, 


88  THE  PROPHET  OF  THE 

he  did  !  Ef  I  thought  I  war  never  a-goin'  ter 
hear  Old  Hickory's  name  agin  I  'd  tune  up  my 
ears  fur  the  angel's  quirin'.  I  war  born  a  Re- 
publikin,  I  grow'd  ter  be  a  good  Whig,  an'  I  '11 
die  a  Republikin.  Ef  that  ain't  religion  I 
dunno  what  air  !  That 's  the  way  I  hev  lived 
an'  walked  afore  the  Lord.  An'  hyar  in  the 
evenin'  o'  my  days  I  hev  got  ter  set  alongside 
o'  this  hyar  old  consarn,  an'  hear  him  jow 
'bout'n  Old  Hickory  from  mornin'  till  night. 
Ef  I  hed  knowed  how  he  war  goin'  ter  turn  out 
'bout'n  Old  Hickory  in  his  las'  days,  I  would  n't 
hev  let  my  darter  marry  his  son,  thirty  five  year 
ago.  I  knowed  he  war  a  Dimmycrat,  but  I 
never  knowed  the  stren'th  o'  the  failin'  till  I 
war  called  on  ter  'speriunce  it." 

"  Ye  'lowed  t'other  day,  gran'dad,"  said  Kel- 
sey,  addressing  the  aged  paralytic  in  a  propitia- 
tory manner,  "  ez  ye  war  n't  a-goin'  ter  talk 
'bout'n  Old  Hickory  no  more.  It  'pears  like 
ter  me  ez  ye  oughter  gin  yer  'tention  ter  the 
candidates  ez  ye  hev  got  ter  vote  fur  in  August, 
—  'Cajah  Green,  an'  sech." 

But  it  must  be  admitted  that  Micajah  Green 
was  not  half  the  man  that  Old  Hickory  was, 
and  the  filial  remonstrance  had  no  effect.  The 
acrimonies  of  fifty  years  ago  were  renewed 
across  the  hearth  with  a  rancor  that  suggests 
that  an  old  grudge,  like  old  wine,  improves  with 


GREAT  SMOKY  MOUNTAINS.  89 

time.  No  one  ventured  to  interrupt,  but  Obe- 
diah  Scruggs,  still  lounging  in  the  door,  com- 
mented in  a  low  tone  :  — 

"  The  law  stirs  itself  ter  sot  a  time  when  a 
man  air  old  enough  ter  vote  an'  meddle  with 
politics  ginerally.  'Pears  like  ter  me  it  ought 
ter  sot  a  time  when  he  hev  got  ter  quit." 

"  Waal,  Obediah  !  "  exclaimed  the  soft-voiced 
woman,  the  red  parings  hanging  in  concentric 
circles  from  her  motionless  knife.  "  That  ain't 
religion.  Ye  talk  like  a  man  would  hev  ter  be 
ez  sensible  an'  solid  fur  politics  ez  fur  workin' 
on  the  road.  They  don't  summons  the  old  men 
fur  sech  jobs  ez  that.  They  mought  ez  well 
enjye  the  evenin'  o'  thar  days  with  this  foolish- 
ness o'  politics  ez  enny  other." 

"  Shucks  !  "  said  Obediah,  who  had  the  cour- 
age of  his  convictions.  "  These  hyar  old  folks 
hev  hed  ter  live  in  the  same  house  an'  ride  in 
the  same  wagin  thirty-five  year,  jes'  'kase,  when 
we  war  married,  they  agreed  ter  put  what  they 
hed  tergether  ;  an'  they  hev  been  a-fightin'  over 
thar  dead  an'  gone  politics  ev'y  minit  o'  the 
time  sence.  Thar  may  be  some  good  Dimmy- 
crats,  an'  thar  may  be  some  good  Republikins ; 
but  they  make  a  powerful  oneasy  team,  yoked 
tergether.  An'  when  it  grows  on  'em  so,  the 
law  oughter  step  in,  an'  count  'em  over  age,  an' 
shet  'em  up.  'Specially  ez  dad  hev  voted  fur 


90  THE  PROPHET  OF  THE 

Andy  Jackson  fur  Presiding  outer  respec'  fur 
his  ruem'ry,  ev'y  'lection  sence  the  tormentin' 
old  critter  died." 

But  he  said  all  this  below  his  breath,  and 
presently  fell  silent,  for  his  wife's  face  had 
clouded,  and  her  soft  drawling  voice  had  an 
intimation  of  a  depression  of  spirit. 

"The  kentry  hev  kem  ter  its  ruin,"  exclaimed 
the  paralytic,  "  when  men  —  brazen-faced  buz- 
zards—  kin  go  an'  git  'lected  ter  office  'thout 
no  party  ter  boost  'em  !  Look-a-hyar,"  —  he 
turned  to  his  grandson,  —  "  ye  air  always 
a-prophesyin'.  Prophesy  some  now.  Air  'Ca- 
jah  Green  a-goin'  ter  be  'lected  ?  " 

He  thumped  the  floor  with  his  stick,  and  fixed 
his  imperative  eye  upon  Hiram  Kelsey's  face. 

"Naw,  gran'dad.  He  won't  be  'lected,"  said 
the  prophet. 

The  old  man's  face  was  scarlet  because  of 
this  contradiction  of  his  own  dismal  vaticina- 
tions. 

"'Cajah  Green  will  be  'lected,"  he  cried. 
"  The  kentry 's  ruined.  Folks  dunno  whether 
they  air  Republikins  or  Dimmycrats !  Lor' 
A'mighty,  ter  think  o'  that!  The  kentry 's 
ruined !  An'  yer  prophesyin'  don't  tech  it. 
They  hed  false  prophets  in  the  old  days,  an' 
the  tribe  holds  out  yit." 

He  struck  the  floor  venomously  with  his  stick. 


GREAT  SMOKY  MOUNTAINS.  91 

Its  defective  aim  once  or  twice  brought  it  upon 
a  rough  black  bundle  that  lay  rolled  up  in  front 
of  the  fire  like  a  great  dog.  A  slow  head  was 
lifted  inquiringly,  with  an  offended  mien,  from 
the  rolls  of  fat  and  fur.  Twinkling  small  eyes 
glared  out.  When  another  blow  descended,  with 
a  wild  disregard  of  results,  there  was  a  whim- 
per, a  long  low  growl,  a  flash  of  white  teeth,  and 
with  claw  and  fang  the  pet  cub  caught  at  the 
stick.  The  old  man  dropped  it  in  a  panic. 

"  Look  a-yander  at  the  bar  !  "  he  shrieked. 

But  the  cub  had  crouched  on  the  floor  since 
the  stick  had  fallen,  and  was  whimpering  again, 
and  looking  about  in  cowardly  appeal. 

The  old  man  rallied,  "  What  d'ye  bring  the 
savage  beastis  home  fur,  Hiram,  out'n  the  woods 
whar  they  b'long  ?  "  he  vociferated. 

"Ease  he  'lowed  he  bed  killed  the  dam,  an' 
the  young  'un  war  bound  ter  starve,"  put  in 
the  other  old  man  actuated,  perhaps,  by  some 
sympathy  for  the  grandson,  whose  strength  and 
youth  counted  for  naught  against  this  adver- 
sary. 

"  What  air  ye  a-aimin'  ter  do  with  it  ?  Ter 
kill  sech  chillen  ez  happen  ter  make  game  o' 
ye  ?  That 's  what  the  prophets  of  old  cited  thar 
bars  ter  do,  — ter  kill  the  little  laftin'  chillen." 

Kelsey  winced.  The  cruelties  of  the  old 
chronicles  bore  hard  upon  his  wavering  faith. 


92  THE  PROPHET   OF  THE 

The  old  man  saw  his  advantage,  and  with 
the  wantonness  of  tyranny  followed  it  up: 
"That 's  it,  —  that 's  it !  That  would  suit  Hi- 
ram, like  the  prophets,  —  ter  kill  the  innercent 
chillen ! " 

The  young  man  recoiled  suddenly.  The  pa- 
triarch, a  wild  terror  on  his  pallid,  aged  face, 
recognized  the  significance  of  his  words.  He 
held  up  his  shaking  hands  as  if  to  recall  them, 
to  clutch  them.  He  had  remembered  the  do- 
mestic tragedy  :  the  humble  figure  of  the  little 
mountain  child,  all  gayety  and  dimples  and 
gurgling  laughter,  who  had  known  no  grief  and 
had  wrought  such  woe,  who  had  left  a  rude, 
empty  cradle  in  the  corner,  a  mound  —  such  a 
tiny  mound! — in  the  graveyard,  and  an  imper- 
ishable anguish  of  self-reproach,  unquenchable 
as  the  fires  of  hell. 

"  I  furgot,  —  I  furgot !  "  shrieked  the  old 
man.  "  I  furgot  the  baby !  When  war  she 
buried  ?  —  las'  week  or  year  afore  las'  ?  The 
only  one,  —  the  only  great-gran 'child  I  ever 
hed.  The  frien'liest  baby  !  Knowed  me  jes' 
ez  well !  "  He  burst  into  senile  tears.  "  Don't 
ye  go,  Hiram.  What  did  the  doctor  say  ye  gin 
her  ?  Laws-a-massy  !  'Pears  like  't  war  jes' 
yestiddy  she  war  a-crawlin'  'roun'  the  floor, 
stiddier  that  heejus  beastis  ez  I  wisht  war  in 
the  woods  —  lafifin'  —  Lord  A'mighty !  laffin'  an' 


GREAT  SMOKY  MOUNTAINS.  93 

takin'  notice  ez  peart.  Hiram,  don't  ye  go,  — 
don't  ye  go  !  Peartes',  pretties'  chile  I  ever  see 
—  an'  I  had  six  o'  my  own  —  an'  the  frien'lies' ! 
An'  I  hed  planned  fur  sech  a  many  pleasures 
when  she  hed  got  some  growth  an'  hed  1'arned 
ter  talk.  I  wanted  ter  hear  what  she  hed  ter 
say,  —  the  only  great-grandchild  I  ever  hed,  — 
an'  now  the  words  will  never  be  spoke.  'Pears 
like  ter  me  ez  the  Lord  shows  mighty  little 
jedgmint  ter  take  her,  an'  leave  me  a-cumberin' 
the  groun'." 

Then  he  began  once  more  to  wring  his  hands 
and  sob  aloud,  —  that  piteous  weeping  of  the 
aged !  —  and  to  mumble  brokenly,  "  The  frien'- 
lies' baby ! " 

The  woman  left  her  work  and  took  off  her 
bonnet,  showing  her  gray  hair  drawn  into  a 
skimpy  knot  at  the  back  of  her  head,  and  leav- 
ing in  high  relief  her  strong,  honest,  candid  fea- 
tures, on  which  the  refinements  of  all  benign 
impulses  effaced  the  effects  of  poverty  and  igno- 
rance. She  crossed  the  room  to  the  old  man's 
chair  ;  her  velvety  voice  soothed  him.  He  suf- 
fered himself  to  be  lifted  by  his  son  and  grand- 
son, and  carried  away  bodily  to  bed  in  the  room 
across  the  passage.  In  the  mean  time  the 
woman  filled  a  tin  cup  with  lard,  placing  in  its 
midst  a  button  tied  in  a  bit  of  cloth  to  serve  as 
a  wick,  and  lighted  it  at  the  fire,  while  the  cub 


94  TEE  PROPHET  OF  THE 

presided  with  sniffling  curiosity  at  the  unusual 
proceeding,  pressing  up  close  against  her  as  she 
knelt  on  the  hearth,  well  knowing  that  she  was 
not  to  be  held  in  fear  nor  in  any  special  respect 
by  young  bears. 

"I'm  goin'  ter  gin  him  a  button-lamp  ter 
sleep  by,  bein'  ez  he  hev  tuk  the  baby  in  his 
head  agin,"  she  said  to  her  father  in  explana- 
tion ;  "  he  won't  feel  so  lonesome  ef  he  wakes 
up." 

He  had  looked  keenly  after  his  venerable 
compeer  as  the  paralytic  was  borne  across  the 
uninclosed  passage  between  the  two  rooms. 

u  He  's  breaking  some.  He  's  aging,"  he  said 
critically ;  not  without  sympathy,  but  with  a 
stalwart  conviction  that  his  own  feebleness  was 
as  strength  to  the  other's  weakness.  "He's 
breaking  some,"  he  repeated,  with  a  physical 
vanity  that  might  have  graced  a  prize-fighter. 

The  next  moment  there  came  sharp  and 
shrill  through  the  open  door  the  old  man's 
voice,  high  and  glib  in  cheerful  forgetfulness, 
conversing  with  his  attendants  as  they  got  him 
to  bed. 

"  Whenst  I  war  young,"  he  cried,  "  I  went 
down  to  Sevierville  wunst.  'T  war  when  they 
war  a-runnin'  of  Old  Hickory." 

"  Thar  it  is  again !  "  exclaimed  the  ancient 
Republican.  "  Old  Hickory  war  bad  enough 


GREAT  SMOKY  MOUNTAINS.  95 

when  he  war  alive ;  but  I  b'lieves  he  's  wusser 
now  that  he  is  dead,  with  this  hyar  old  critter 
a-moanin'  'bout  him  night  and  day.  I  'd  feel 
myself  called  ter  fling  him  off'n  the  bluff,  ef  it 
war  n't  that  he  hev  got  the  palsy,  an'  I  gits 
sorry  fur  him  wunst  in  a  while.  An'  then,  I 
b'lieves  that  ennybody  what  is  a  Dimmycrat 
air  teched  in  the  head,  an'  ain't  'sponsible  fur 
thar  foolishness,  'kase  sensible  folks  ain't  Dim- 
mycrats.  That 's  been  my  'speriunce  fur  eighty 
year,  an'  I  hev  hed  no  call  ter  change  my  mind. 
So  I  hev  to  try  my  patience  an'  stan'  this  hyar 
old  critter's  foolishness,  but  it  air  a  mighty 
tough  strain." 


96  THE  PROPHET  OF  THE 


V. 

THE  shadows  of  the  great  dead  trees  in  the 
midst  of  the  Settlement  were  at  their  minimum 
in  the  vertical  vividness  of  the  noontide.  They 
bore  scant  resemblance  to  those  memorials  of 
gigantic  growths  which  towered,  stark  and 
white,  so  high  to  the  intensely  blue  sky ;  in- 
stead, they  were  like  some  dark  and  leafless 
underbrush  clustering  about  the  sapless  trunks. 
The  sandy  stretch  of  the  clearing  reflected  the 
sunlight  with  a  deeply  yellow  glare,  its  poverty 
of  soil  illustrated  by  frequent  clumps  of  the 
woolly  mullein-weeds.  The  Indian  corn  and 
the  sparse  grass  were  crudely  green  in  the  in- 
closures  about  the  gray,  weather-beaten  log- 
houses,  which  stood  distinct  against  the  dark, 
restful  tones  of  the  forest  filling  the  back- 
ground. The  mountains  witu  each  remove 
wore  every  changing  disguise  of  distance :  shad- 
ing from  sombre  green  to  a  dull  purple  ;  then 
overlaid  with  a  dubious  blue ;  next  showing  a 
true  and  turquoise  richness;  still  farther,  a 
delicate  transient  hue  that  has  no  name ;  and 
so  away  to  the  vantage-ground  of  illusions, 
where  the  ideal  poises  upon  the  horizon,  and 


GREAT  SMOKY  MOUNTAINS.  97 

the  fact  and  the  fantasy  are  undistinguishably 
blended.  The  intermediate  valleys  appeared 
in  fragmentary  glimpses  here  and  there  :  some- 
times there  was  only  the  verdure  of  the  tree- 
tops  ;  one  was  cleft  by  a  canary-colored  streak 
which  betokened  a  harvested  wheatfield ;  in 
another  blazed  a  sapphire  circle,  where  the 
vertical  sun  burned  in  the  waters  of  a  blue  salt 
"lick." 

The  landscape  was  still,  —  very  still ;  not  the 
idle  floating  of  a  cloud,  not  the  vague  shifting 
of  a  shadow,  not  the  flutter  of  a  wing.  But 
the  Settlement  on  the  crags  above  had  known 
within  its  experience  no  similar  commotion. 
There  were  many  horses  hitched  to  the  fences, 
some  girded  with  blankets  in  lieu  of  saddles. 
Clumsy  wagons  stood  among  the  stumps  in 
the  clearing,  with  the  oxen  unyoked  and  their 
provender  spread  before  them  on  the  ground. 
Although  the  log-cabins  gave  evidence  of  hos- 
pitable proceedings  within,  family  parties  were 
seated  in  some  of  the  vehicles,  munching  the 
dinner  providently  brought  with  them.  All 
the  dogs  in  the  Great  Smoky,  except  perhaps 
a  very  few  incapacitated  by  extreme  age  or 
extreme  youth,  were  humble  participants  in 
the  outing,  having  trotted  under  the  wagons 
many  miles  from  their  mountain  homes,  and 
now  lay  with  lolling  tongues  among  the  wheels. 


98  THE  PROPHET  OF  THE 

About  the  store  lounged  a  number  of  men, 
mostly  the  stolid,  impassive  mountaineers.  A 
few,  however,  although  in  the  customary  jeans, 
bore  the  evidence  of  more  worldly  prosperity 
and  a  higher  culture;  and  there  were  two  or 
three  resplendent  in  the  "  b'iled  shirt  and  store 
clothes"  of  civilization,  albeit  the  first  was 
•without  collar  or  cravat,  and  the  latter  showed 
antique  cut  and  reverend  age.  These  were 
candidates,  —  talkative,  full  of  anecdote,  quick 
to  respond,  easily  flattered,  and  flattering  to 
the  last  degree.  They  were  especially  jocose 
and  friendly  with  each  other,  but  amid  the 
fraternal  guffaws  and  exchanges  of  "chaws  o' 
terbacco"  many  quips  were  bandied,  barbed 
with  ridicule ;  many  good  stories  recounted, 
charged  with  uncomplimentary  deductions; 
many  jokes  cracked,  discovering  the  kernel  of 
slander  or  detraction  in  the  merry  shell.  The 
mountaineers  looked  on,  devoid  of  envy,  and 
despite  their  stolidity  with  an  understanding  of 
the  conversational  masquerade.  Beneath  this 
motley  verbal  garb  was  a  grave  and  eager  aspi- 
ration for  public  favor,  and  it  was  a  matter  of 
no  small  import  when  a  voter  would  languidly 
glance  at  another  with  a  silent  laugh,  slowly 
shake  his  head  with  a  not-to-be-convinced  ges- 
ture, and  spit  profusely  on  the  ground. 

In  and  out  of  the  store  dawdled  a  ceaseless 


GREAT  SMOKY  MOUNTAINS.  99 

procession  of  free  and  enlightened  citizens  ;  al- 
ways emerging  with  an  aspect  of  increased  satis- 
faction, wiping  their  mouths  with  big  bandanna 
handkerchiefs,  and  sometimes  with  the  more 
primitive  expedient  of  a  horny  hand.  Nathan 
Hoodendin  sat  in  front  of  the  door,  keeping 
store  after  his  usual  fashion,  except  that  the 
melancholy  wheeze  "  Jer'miah  "  yse  more  fre- 
quently upon  the  air.  Jer'miah's  duties  con- 
sisted chiefly  in  serving  out  whiskey  and  apple- 
jack, and  the  little  drudge  stuck  to  his  work 
with  an  earnest  pertinacity,  for  which  the 
privilege  of  draining  the  very  few  drops  left  in 
the  bottom  of  the  glass  after  each  dram  seemed 
hardly  an  adequate  reward. 

The  speeches,  which  were  made  in  the  open 
air,  the  candidate  mounted  on  a  stump  in  front 
of  the  store,  were  all  much  alike,  —  the  same 
self-laudatory  meekness,  the  same  inflamed 
party  spirit,  the  same  jocose  allusions  to  op- 
ponents, —  each  ending,  "  Gentlemen,  if  I  am 
elected  to  office  I  will  serve  you  to  the  best  of 
my  skill  and  ability.*  Gentlemen,  I  thank  you 
for  your  attention."  The  crowd,  close  about, 
stood  listening  with  great  intentness,  each  wear- 
ing the  impartial  pondering  aspect  of  an  um- 
pire. 

On  the  extreme  outskirts  of  the  audience, 
however,  there  was  an  unprecedented  lapse  of 


100  TEE  PROPHET  OF  THE 

attention ;  a  few  of  the  men,  seated  on  stumps 
or  on  the  wagon-tongues,  now  and  then  whis- 
pering together,  and  casting  excited  glances 
toward  the  blacksmith's  shop.  Sometimes  one 
would  rise,  approach  it  stealthily,  stoop  down, 
and  peer  in  at  the  low  window.  The  glare 
outside  made  the  interior  seem  doubly  dark, 
and  a  moment  or  two  was  needed  to  distinguish 
the  anvil,  the  fireless  hearth,  the  sooty  hood. 
A  vague  glimmer  fell  through  a  crevice  in1  the 
clapboard  roof  upon  a  shock  of  yellow  hair 
and  gleaming  eyes,  two  sullen  points  of  light  in 
the  midst  of  the  deep  shadows.  None  of  the 
mountaineers  had  ever  seen  a  wild  beast  caged, 
but  Rick  Tyler's  look  of  fierce  and  surly  de- 
spair, of  defiance,  of  all  vain  and  vengeful  im- 
pulses, as  he  sat  bound  hand  and  foot  in  the 
forge,  was  hardly  more  human.  .  The  faces 
multiplied  at  the  window,  —  stolid,  or  morbidly 
curious,  awe-struck,  or  with  a  grinning  display 
of  long  tobacco-stained  teeth.  Many  of  them 
were  well  known  to  Rick  Tyler,  and  if  ever  he 
had  liked  them  he  hated  them  now. 

There  was  a  stir  outside,  a  clamor  of  many 
voices.  The  "  speaking "  was  over.  Foot- 
steps sounded  close  to  the  door  of  the  black- 
smith's shop.  The  sheriff  was  about  ,to  enter, 
and  the  crowd  pressed  eagerly  forward  to 
ca^ch  a  glimpse  of  the  prisoner.  Arriving  this 


GREAT  SMOKY  MOUNTAINS.  101 

morning,  the  sheriff  had  been  glad  to  combine 
his  electioneering  interests  with  his  official 
duty.  The  opportunity  of  canvassing  among 
the  assemblage  gave  him,  he  thought,  an  ample 
excuse  for  remaining  a  few  hours  longer  at  the 
Settlement  than  was  necessary ;  and  when  he 
heard  of  the  impending  diversion  of  the  gan- 
der-pulling he  was  convinced  that  his  horse  re- 
quired still  more  rest  before  starting  with  his 
prisoner  for  Shaftesville  jail. 

He  went  briskly  into  the  forge,  carrying  a 
pair  of  clanking  handcuffs.  He  busied  himself 
in  exchanging  these  for  the  cord  with  which  the 
young  fellow's  wrists  were  bound.  It  had  been 
drawn  brutally  tight,  and  the  flesh  was  swollen 
and  raw.  "  It  seems  ter  me,  ez  't  was  the 
blacksmith  that  nabbed  ye,  he  might  hev  done 
better  for  ye  than  this,  by  a  darned  sight,"  he 
said  in  an  undertone. 

He  had  not  been  reluctant  at  first  that  the 
crowd  should  come  in,  but  he  appreciated  un- 
necessary harshness  as  an  appeal  for  sympathy, 
and  he  called  out  to  his  deputy,  who  had  ac- 
companied him  on  his  mission,  to  clear  the 
room. 

"  We  're  goin'  ter  keep  him  shet  up  fur  a 
hour  or  so,  an'  start  down  the  mounting  in  the 
cool  of  the  evenin',''  he  explained ;  "so  ef  ye 
want  ter  view  him  the  winder  is  yer  chance." 


102  THE  PROPHET  OF  THE 

The  forge  was  cleared  at  last,  the  broad  light 
vanishing  with  the  closing  of  the  great  barn- 
like  doors.  Rick  heard  the  lowered  voices  of 
the  sheriff  and  deputy  gravely  consulting  with- 
out, as  they  secured  the  fastenings  with  a  pad- 
lock which  they  had  brought  with  them  in 
view  of  emergencies.  They  had  taken  the 
precaution,  too,  to  nail  strips  of  board  at  close 
intervals  across  the  shutterless  window  ;  more, 
perhaps,  to  prevent  the  intrusion  of  the  curious 
without  than  the  escape  of  the  manacled  pris- 
oner. The  section  of  the  landscape  glimpsed 
through  the  bars,  —  the  far  blue  mountains 
and  a  cluster  of  garnet  pokeberries,  with  a  leaf 
or  two  of  the  bush  growing  close  by  the  wall  — 
sprang  into  abnormal  brilliancy  at  the  end  of 
the  dark  vista  of  the  interior.  It  was  a  dusk- 
ier brown  within  for  that  fragment  of  vivid  color 
and  dazzling  clearness  in  the  window.  Naught 
else  coull  be  seen,  except  a  diagonal  view  of  the 
porch  of  one  of  the  log-cabins  and  the  corn-field 
beyond. 

Curiosity  was  not  yet  sated ;  now  and  then  a 
face  peered  in,  as  Rick  sat  bound,  securely,  the 
cords  still  about  his  limbs  and  feet  and  the 
clanking  handcuffs  on  his  wrists.  These  in- 
quisitive apparitions  at  the  window  grew  fewer 
as  the  time  went  by,  and  presently  ceased  al- 
together. The  bustle  outside  increased :  it 


GREAT  SMOKY  MOUNTAINS.  103 

drowned  the  drowsy  drone  of  the  cicada ;  it 
filled  the  mountain  solitudes  with  a  trivial  in- 
congruity. Often  sounded  there  the  sudden 
tramp  of  a  horse  and  a  loud  guffaw.  Rick 
knew  that  they  were  making  ready  for  the 
gander-pulling,  which  unique  sport  had  been 
selected  by  the  long-headed  mountain  politi- 
cians as  likely  to  insure  the  largest  assem- 
blage possible  from  the  surrounding  region  to 
hear  the  candidates  prefer  their  claims. 

Electioneering  topics  were  not  suspended 
even  while  the  younger  men  were  saddling  and 
bridling  their  horses  for  the  proposed  festivity. 
As  Micajah  Green  strolled  across  the  clearing, 
and  joined  a  group  of  elderly  spectators  who 
in  their  chairs  sat  tilted  against  the  walls  of 
the  store,  which  began  to  afford  some  shade,  he 
found  that  his  own  prospects  were  under  dis- 
cussion. 

"  They  tell  me,  'Cajah,"  said  Nathan  Hood- 
endin,  who  had  hardly  budged  that  day,  his 
conversational  activity,  however,  atoning  for  his 
physical  inertia,  "ez  ye  air  bound  ter  eend  this 
'lection  with  yer  finger  in  yer  mouth." 

"  Don't  know  why,"  said  Micajah  Green,  with 
a  sharp,  sudden  effect  as  of  an  angry  bark,  and 
lapsing  from  the  smiling  mien  which  he  wa§ 
wont  to  conserve  as  a  candidate. 

"  Waal,  word  hev  been  brung  hyar  ter  the 


104  .  TEE  PROPHET  OF   THE 

Settlemint  ez  this  prophet  o'  ourn  in  the  Big 
Smoky,  he  say  ye  ain't  goin'  ter  be  re'lected." 

The  sheriff  laughed  scornfully,  snapping 
his  fingers  as  he  stood  before  the  group,  and 
whirled  airily  on  his  boot-heel. 

Nevertheless,  he  was  visibly  annoyed.  He 
knew  the  strength  of  a  fantastic  superstition 
among  ignorant  people,  and  their  disposition  to 
verify  rather  than  disprove.  There  were  voters 
in  the  Big  Smoky  liable  to  be  controlled  by  a 
morbid  impulse  to  make  the  prophet's  word 
true.  It  was  an  unexpected  and  unmeasured 
adverse  influence,  and  he  chafed  under  the 
realization. 

"  An'  what  sets  Pa'son  Kelsey  agin  me  ?  "  he 
demanded. 

"  He  ain't  in  no  ways  sot  agin  you-uns  ez  I 
knows  on,"  discriminated  Nathan  Hoodendin, 
studious  impartiality  expressed  among  the 
graven  wrinkles  of  his  face.  "  Not  ez  it  war 
sot  agin  ye  ;  but  he  jes'  'lows  ez  that  air  the 
fac'.  Ye  ain't  goin'  ter  be  'lected  agin.* 

"  The  pa'son  hev  got  a  gredge  agin  the  old 
man,  hyar,"  said  the  deputy.  He  was  a  stal- 
wart fellow  of  about  twenty-five  years  of  age. 
He  had  sandy  hair  and  mustache,  a  broad 
freckled  face,  light  gray  eyes,  and  a  thin- 
lipped,  defiant  mouth.  He  bore  himself  with 
an  air  of  bravado,  which  conveyed  as  many  de« 


GREAT  SMOKY  MOUNTAINS.  105 

grees  of  insult  as  one  felt  disposed  to  take  up. 
"  He  lit  out  on  me  fust,  —  I  war  with  Amos 
Jeemes  thar,  —  an'  the  pa'son  put  us  out'n  the 
meetV-house.  He  did  I  He  don't  want  no 
sorter  she^'ffs  in  the  Big  Smoky.  An'  he  called 
Gid  Fletcher,  the  blacksmith, c  Judas'  far  arrest- 
in'  that  lot  o'  bacon  yander  in  the  shop,  when 
he  kem  hyar  ter  the  Settlemint  fur  powder,  ter 
keep  him  able  ter  resis'  the  law  !  Who  sold 
Rick  Tyler  that  powder,  Mister  Hoodendin  ?  " 
he  added,  turning  his  eyes  on  the  proprietor  of 
the  store. 

Old  Hoodendin  hesitated.  "  Jer'rniah,"  he 
wheezed  feebly. 

His  anxious  eyes  gleamed  from  out  their 
perplexed  wrinkles  like  a  ray  of  sunlight  twink- 
ling through  a  spider  web. 

There  was  an  interchange  of  glances  between 
the  sheriff  and  his  deputy,  and  the  admonished    , 
subordinate  continued  : 

"  'T  war  jes'  the  boy,  eh  ;  an'  I  reckon  he 
war  afeard  o'  Rick's  shootih '-irons  an'  sech." 

"  'T  war  Jer'miah,"  repeated  the  storekeeper, 
his  discreet  eyes  upon  the  bosom  of  his  blue- 
checked  homespun  shirt. 

44  Waal,  the  pa'son,  ez  I  war  sayin',  he  called 
the  blacksmith  (  Judas  '  fur  capturin'  the  male- 
factor, an'  the  gov'nor's  reward  c  blood  money,' " 
continued  the  deputy,  expertly  electioneering, 


106  THE  PROPHET  OF  THE 

since  his  own  tenure  was  on  the  uncertain  con- 
tinuance of  the  sheriff  in  office.  '"  An'  now  he's 
goin'  'round  the  kentry  prophesyin'  ez  'Cajah 
Green  ain't  goin'  ter  be  'lected.  Waal,  thar  war 
false  prophets  'fore  his  time,  an'  will  be  agin, 
I  'm  thinkin'." 

There  was  a  sudden  clamor  upon  the  air ;  a 
vibrant,  childish  voice,  and  then  a  great  horse- 
laugh. An  old  crone  had  come  out  of  one  of 
the  cabins  and  was  standing  by  the  fence,  hold- 
ing out  to  Gid  Fletcher,  who  seemed  master  of 
ceremonies,  a  large  white  gander.  The  fowl's 
physiognomy  was  thrown  into  bold  prominence 
by  a  thorough  greasing  of  the  head  and  neck. 
His  wings  flapped,  he  hissed  fiercely,  he  dolor- 
ously squawked.  A  little  girl  was  running 
frantically  by  the  side  of  the  old  woman,  clutch- 
ing at  her  skirt,  and  vociferously  claiming  the 
"  gaynder."  Hers  it  was,  since  "  Mam  gin  me 
the  las'  aig  when  the  gray  goose  laid  her  ladder 
out,  an'  it  war  sot  under  the  old  Dominicky 
hen  ez  kem  off  n  her  nest  through  settin'  three 
weeks,  like  a  hen  will  do.  An'  then  't  war 
put  under  old  Top-knot,  an'  't  war  the  fust  aig 
hatched  out'n  old  Top-knot's  settin'." 

This  unique  pedigree,  shrieked  out  with  a 
shrill  distinctness,  mixed  with  the  lament  of 
the  prescient  bird,  had  a  ludicrous  effect. 
Fletcher  took  the  gander  with  a  guffaw,  the 


GREAT  SMOKY  MOUNTAINS.  107 

old  crone  chuckled,  and  the  young  men  laughed 
as  they  mounted  their  horses. 

The  blacksmith  hardly  knew  which  part  he 
preferred  to  play.  The  element  of  domination 
in  his  character  gave  a  peculiar  relish  to  the 
r61e  of  umpire ;  yet  with  his  pride  in  his  deft- 
ness and  strength  it  cost  him  a  pang  to  forego 
the  competition  in  which  he  felt  himself  an  as- 
sured victor.  He  armed  himself  with  a  whip 
of  many  thongs,  and  took  his  stand  beneath  a 
branch  of  one  of  the  trees,  from  which  the  gan- 
der was  suspended  by  his  big  feet,  head  down- 
ward. Aghast  at  his  disagreeable  situation,  his 
wild  eyes  stared  about ;  his  great  wings  flapped 
drearily ;  his  long  neck  protruded  with  its  pe- 
culiar motion,  unaware  of  the  clutch  it  invited. 
What  a  pity  so  funny  a  thing  can  suffer ! 

The  gaping  crowd  at  the  store,  on  the  cabin 
porches,  on  the  fences,  watched  the  competitors 
with  wide-eyed,  wide-mouthed  delight.  There 
were  gallant  figures  among  them,  shown  to  ad- 
vantage on  young  horses  whose  spirit  was  not 
yet  quelled  by  the  plough.  They  filed  slowly 
around  the  prescribed  space  once,  twice ;  then 
each  made  the  circuit  alone  at  a  break-neck 
gallop.  As  the  first  horseman  rode  swiftly 
along  the  crest  of  the  precipice,  his  head  high 
against  the  blue  sky,  the  stride  of  the  steed 
covering  mountain  and  valley,  he  had  the  mi- 


108  THE  PROPHET   OF  THE 

raculous  effect  of  Prince  Firouz  Shah  and  the 
enchanted  horse  in  their  mysterious  aerial  jour- 
neys. When  he  passed  beneath  the  branch 
whence  hung  the  frantic,  fluttering  bird,  the 
blacksmith,  standing  sentinel  with  his  whip  of 
many  thongs,  laid  it  upon  the  flank  of  the  horse, 
and  despite  the  wild  and  sudden  plunge  the 
rider  rose  in  his  stirrups  and  clutched  the 
greased  neck  of  the  swaying  gander.  Tough, 
old  fowl !  The  strong  ligaments  resisted.  The 
first  hardly  hoped  to  pluck  the  head,  and  after 
his  hasty  convulsive  grasp  his  frightened  horse 
carried  him  on  almost  over  the  bluff.  The  slip- 
pery neck  refused  to  yield  at  the  second  pull, 
and  the  screams  of  the  delighted  spectators 
mingled  with  the  shrieks  of  the  gander.  The 
mountain  colt,  a  clay-bank,  with  a  long  black 
tail  full  of  cockle-burrs,  bearing  the  third  man, 
reared  violently  under  the  surprise  of  the  lash. 
As  the  rider  changed  the  balance  of  his  weight, 
rising  in  his  stirrups  to  tug  at  the  gander's 
neck,  the  colt  pawed  the  air  wildly  with  his 
fore  feet,  fell  backward,  and  rolled  upon  the 
ground,  almost  over  the  hapless  wight.  The 
blacksmith  was  fain  to  support  himself  against 
the  tree  for  laughter,  and  the  hurrahing  Settle- 
ment could  not  remember  when  it  had  enjoyed 
anything  so  much.  The  man  gathered  himself 
up  sheepishly,  and  limped  off;  the  colt  being 


GREAT  SMOKY  MOUNTAINS.  109 

probably  a  mile  away,  running  through  the 
woods  at  the  height  of  his  speed. 

The  gander  was  in  a  panic  by  this  time.  If 
ever  a  fowl  of  that  gender  has  hysterics,  that 
gander  exhibited  the  disease.  He  hissed ;  he 
flapped  his  wings  ;  he  squawked  ;  he  stared  ; 
he  used  every  limited  power  of  expression  with 
which  nature  has  gifted  him.  He  was  so  fun- 
ny one  could  hardly  look  at  him. 

As  Amos  James  was  about  to  take  his  turn, 
amid  flattering  cries  of  "  Amos  '11  pull  his 
head  !  "  "  Amos  '11  git  his  head  ! "  a  man  who 
had  suddenly  appeared  on  horseback  at  the 
verge  of  the  clearing,  and  had  paused,  contem- 
plating the  scene,  rode  swiftly  forward  to  the 
tree. 

"  Ye  can't  pull  out'n  turn,  —  ye  can't  pull 
out'n  turn,  pa'son  ! "  cried  half  a  dozen  voices 
from  the  younger  men.  The  elders  stared  in 
amaze  that  the  preacher  should  demean  his 
calling  by  engaging  in  this  public  sport. 

Kelsey  checked  his  pace  before  he  reached 
the  blacksmith,  who,  seeing  that  he  was  not 
going  to  pull,  forbore  to  lay  on  the  lash.  The 
next  moment  he  thought  that  Kelsey  was  going 
to  pull ;  he  had  risen  in  his  stirrups,  with  up- 
lifted arm. 

"  What  be  you-uns  a-goin'  ter  do  ?  "  demand- 
ed Gid  Fletcher,  amazed. 


110  THE  PROPHET  OF  THE 

"  I  'm  a-goin'  ter  take  this  hyar  critter 
down." 

His  words  thrilled  through  the  Settlement 
like  a  current  of  electricity.  The  next  phrase 
was  lost  in  a  wild  chorus  of  exclamations. 

"  Take  the  gaynder  down  ?  " 

"What  fur?" 

"  Hi  Kelsey  hev  los'  his  mind ;  surely  he 
hev." 

Then  above  the  angry,  undistinguishable  tu- 
mult of  remonstrance  the  preacher's  voice  rose 
clear  and  impressive :  "  The  pains  o'  the  beastis 
he  hev  made  teches  the  Lord  in  heaven  ;  fur  he 
marks  the  sparrow's  fall,  an'  minds  himself  o' 
the  pitiful  o'  y earth  ! "  He  spoke  with  the 
authority  appertaining  to  his  calling.  "  The 
spark  o'  life  in  this  fow-eZ  air  kindled  ez  fraish 
ez  yourn,  —  fur  hevin'  a  soul,  ye  don't  giner- 
ally  prove  it ;  an'  hevin'  no  soul  ter  save,  this 
gaynder  hain't  yearned  the  torments  o'  hell,  an' 
I  'm  a-goin'  ter  take  the  critter  down." 

"'T  ain't  yer  gaynder!  "  conclusively  argued 
the  blacksmith,  applying  the  swage  of  his  own 
conviction. 

"  He  air  my  gaynder  !  "  shrieked  out  a  child- 
ish voice.  "  Take  him  down,  —  take  him 
down ! " 

This  objection  to  the  time -honored  sport 
seemed  hardly  less  eccentric  than  an  exhibition 


GREAT  SMOKY  MOUNTAINS.  Ill 

of  insanity.  To  apply  a  dignified  axiom  of  hu- 
manity to  that  fluttering,  long-suffering  tumult 
of  anguish  familiarly  known  as  the  "  gaynder  " 
was  regarded  as  ludicrously  inappropriate.  To 
refer  to  the  Lord  and  the  typical  sparrow  in  this 
connection  seemed  almost  blasphemy.  Never- 
theless, with  the  rural  reverence  for  spiritual 
authority  and  the  superior  moral  perception 
of  the  clergy,  the  crowd  wore  a  submissively 
balked  aspect,  and  even  the  young  men  who  had 
not  yet  had  their  tug  at  the  fowl's  neck  suc- 
cumbed, under  the  impression  that  the  preach- 
er's fiat  had  put  a  stop  to  the  gander-pulling 
for  this  occasion. 

As  Kelsey  once  more  lifted  his  hand  to  lib- 
erate the  creator  of  the  day's  merriment,  the 
blacksmith,  his  old  grudge  reinforced  by  a  new 
one,  gave  ihe  horse  a  cut  with  his  whip.  The 
animal  plunged  under  the  unexpected  blow,  and 
carried  the  rider  beyond  the  tree.  Reverence 
for  the  cloth  had  no  longer  a  restraining  influ- 
ence on  the  young  mountaineers.  They  burst 
into  yells  of  laughter. 

"  Cl'ar  out,  pa'son  !  "  they  exclaimed,  delight- 
edly. "  Ye  hev  hed  yer  pull.  Cl'ar  out ! " 

There  was  a  guffaw  among  the  elders  about 
the  store.  A  clamor  of  commenting  voices 
rose  from  the  cabin  porches,  where  the  femi- 
nine spectators  stood.  The  gander  squawked 


112  THE  PROPHET  OF  THE 

dolorously.  The  hubbub  was  increased  by  the 
sudden  sharp  yelping  of  hounds  that  had  started 
game  somewhere  near  at  hand.  Afterward, 
from  time  to  time,  canine  snarls  and  yaps  rose 
vociferously  upon  the  air,  —  unheeded,  since  the 
inherent  interests  of  a  gander-pulling  were  so 
enhanced  by  the  addition  of  a  moral  discussion 
and  the  jeopardy  of  its  conclusion. 

The  next  man  in  turn,  Amos  James,  put  his 
horse  to  a  canter,  and  came  in  a  cloud  of  yel- 
low dust  toward  the  objective  point  under  the 
tree.  In  another  moment  there  was  almost  a 
collision,  for  Kelsey  had  wheeled  and  ridden 
back  so  swiftly  that  he  reined  up  under  the 
bough  where  the  fowl  hung  as  Amos  James, 
rising  in  his  stirrups,  dashed  toward  it.  His 
horse  shied,  and  carried  him  past,  out  of  reach, 
while  the  blacksmith  stepped  precipitately  to- 
ward the  bole,  exclaiming  angrily,  "  Don't  ride 
me  down,  Hi  Kelsey  !  " 

He  recovered  his  presence  of  mind  and  the 
use  of  his  whip  immediately,  and  laid  a  sting- 
ing lash  upon  the  parson's  horse,  as  once  more 
the  champion  of  the  bird  reached  up  to  release 
it.  The  next  instant  Gid  Fletcher  recoiled 
suddenly ;  there  was  a  significant  gesture,  a 
steely  glimmer,  and  the  blacksmith  was  gazing 
with  petrified  reluctance  down  the  muzzle  of  a 
six-shooter.  He  dared  not  move  a  muscle  as 


GREAT  SMOKY  MOUNTAINS.  113 

he  stood,  with  that  limited  field  of  vision,  and 
with  more  respectful  acquiescence  in  the  opinion 
of  another  man  than  he  had  ever  before  been 
brought  to  entertain.  The  horseman  looked  at 
his  enemy  in  silence  for  a  moment,  the  broad- 
brimmed  hat  shading  his  face,  with  its  melan- 
choly expression,  its  immobile  features,  and  its 
flashing  eyes. 

"  Drap  that  lash,"  Kelsey  said. 

Gid  Fletcher's  grasp  relaxed ;  then  the  par- 
son with  his  left  hand  reached  up  and  contrived 
to  unloose  the  fluttering  gander.  He  handed 
the  bird  down  to  the  little  girl,  who  had  been 
fairly  under  the  horse's  heels  at  the  tree  since 
the  first  suggestions  of  its  deliverance.  She 
clutched  it  in  great  haste,  wrapped  her  apron 
about  it,  and  carrying  it,  baby-wise,  ran  fleetly 
off,  casting  apprehensive  glances  over  her  shoul- 
der. 

So  the  gander  was  saved,  but  in  its  fright,  its 
woe,  and  the  frantic  presage  in  whatever  organ 
may  serve  it  for  mind,  the  fowl  had  a  pretty 
fair  case  against  the  Settlement  for  exemplary 
damages. 

The  sport  ended  in  great  disaffection  and  a 
surly  spirit.  Several  small  grievances  among 
the  younger  men  promised  to  result  in  a  dis- 
turbance of  the  peace.  The  blacksmith,  held 
at  bay  only  by  the  pistol,  flared  out  furiously 


114  THE  PROPHET  OF  THE 

when  relieved  of  that  strong  coercion.  His 
pride  was  roused  in  that  he  should  be  publicly 
balked  and  terrorized. 

"  I  '11  remember  this,"  he  said,  shaking  his 
fist  in  the  prophet's  face.  "  I  '11  save  the  gredge 
agin  ye." 

But  he  was  pulled  off  by  his  brethren  in  the 
church,  who  thought  it  unwise  to  have  a  mem- 
ber in  good  standing  again  assault  the  apostle 
of  peace. 

Amos  James  —  a  tall,  black-eyed  fellow  of 
twenty  three  or  four,  with  black  hair,  slightly 
powdered  with  flour,  and  a  brown  jeans  suit, 
thus  reminiscent  also  of  the  mill  —  sighed  for 
the  sport  in  which  he  had  hoped  to  be  victo- 
rious. 

"  Pa'son  talked  like  the  gaynder  war  his 
blood  relation,  —  own  brothers,  I  'm  a-think- 
in',"  he  drawled,  disconsolately. 

The  sheriff  was  disposed  to  investigate  proph- 
ecy. "I 've  heard,  pa'son,"  he  said,  with  a  smile 
ill-concealing  his  vexation,  "  ye  have  foreseen 
I  ain't  goin'  ter  be  lucky  with  this  here  'lec- 
tion ;  goin'  ter  come  out  o'  the  leetle  eend  o'  the 
horn." 

The  prophet,  too,  was  perturbed  and  out  of 
sorts.  The  sustaining  grace  of  feeling  a  mar- 
tyr was  lacking  in  the  event  of  to-day,  in  which 
he  himself  had  wielded  the  coercive  hand.  He 


GREAT  SMOKY  MOUNTAINS.  115 

marked  the  covert  aggressiveness  of  the  sheriff's 
manner,  and  revolted  at  being  held  to  account 
and  forced  to  contest.  He  fixed  his  gleaming 
eyes  upon  the  officer's  face,  but  said  nothing. 

"  I  'm  a-hustlin'  off  now,"  said  Micajah  Green, 
"  an'  ez  I  won't  be  up  in  the  Big  Smoky  agin 
afore  the  'lection,  I  'lowed  ez  I M  find  out  what 
ails  ye  ter  set  sech  a  durned  thing  down  as  a 
fac'.  Why  ain't  I  goin'  ter  be  'lected  ?  "  he 
reiterated,  his  temper  flaring  in  his  face,  his 
eyes  fierce.  But  for  the  dragging  block  and 
chain  of  his  jeopardized  prospects  he  could 
not  have  restrained  himself  from  active  insult. 
With  his  peculiar  qualifications  for  making 
enemies,  and  the  opportunities  afforded  by  the 
difficult  office  he  had  filled  for  the  past  two 
years,  he  illustrated  at  this  moment  the  justice 
of  the  prophecy.  But  his  evident  anxiety,  his 
eagerness,  even  his  fierce  intolerance,  had  a 
touch  of  the  pathetic  to  the  man  for  whom 
earth  held  so  little  and  heaven  nothing.  It 
seemed  useless  to  suggest,  to  admonish,  to 
argue. 

"  I  say  the  word,"  declared  the  prophet.  "  I 
can't  ondertake  ter  gin  the  reason." 

"  Ye  won't  gin  the  reason  ?  "  said  the  sheriff, 
between  his  teeth. 

"Naw,"  said  the  prophet. 

"  An'  I  won't  be  'lected,  hey  ?  " 


116  THE  PROPHET  OF  THE 

"  Ye  won't  be  'lected." 

The  deputy  touched  the  sheriff  on  the  shoul- 
der. "  I  want  ter  see  ye." 

"In  a  minute,"  said  the  elder  man,  impa- 
tiently. 

"  I  want  ter  see  ye." 

Something  in  the  tone  constrained  attention. 
The  sheriff  turned,  and  looked  into  a  changed 
face.  He  suffered  himself  to  be  led  aside. 

"  Ye  ain't  goin'  ter  be  'lected,"  said  the 
deputy,  grimly,  "  an'  for  a  damned  good  reason. 
Look-a-thar  !  " 

They  had  walked  to  the  blacksmith's  shop. 
The  deputy  motioned  to  him  to  look  into  the 
window. 

"  Damn  ye,  what  is  it  ?  "  demanded  Micajah 
Green,  mystified. 

The  other  made  no  reply,  and  the  officer 
stooped,  and  looked  into  the  dusky  interior. 


GREAT  SMOKY  MOUNTAINS.  117 


VI. 


THREE  sides  of  the  blacksmith  shop,  the 
door,  and  the  window  were  in  full  view  from 
the  little  hamlet;  the  blank  wall  of  the  rear 
was  close  to  a  sheer  precipice.  The  door  was 
locked,  and  the  key  was  in  the  sheriff's  pocket. 
The  prisoner,  bound  with  cords  around  his 
ankles  and  limbs,  and  with  his  wrists  manacled, 
was  gone ! 

Every  detail  was  as  it  had  been  left,  except 
that  at  the  rear,  the  only  point  secure  from  ob- 
servation, there  were  traces  of  burrowing  in  the 
earth.  In  the  cavity  thus  made  between  the 
lowest  log  and  the  "dirt  floor"  a  man's  body 
might  with  difficulty  have  been  compressed,  — 
but  a  man  so  shackled  !  Undoubtedly  he  had 
had  assistance.  This  was  a  rescue. 

Only  a  moment  elapsed  before  the  great  barn- 
like  doors  were  widely  flaring  and  the  anxious 
care  of  the  -officers  and  the  eager  curiosity  of 
the  crowd  had  explored  every  nook  and  cranny 
within.  The  ground  was  dry,  and  there  was 
not  even  a  footprint  to  betoken  the  movements 
of  the  fugitive  and  his  rescuers;  only  in  the 
freshly  upturned  earth  where  he  effected  escape 


118  THE  PROPHET  OF  THE 

were  the  distinct  marks  of  the  palms  of  his 
hands,  significantly  close  together.  Evidently 
he  was  still  handcuffed  when  he  had  crawled 
through. 

"  He 's  a-wearin'  my  bracelets  yit !  "  ex- 
claimed the  sheriff,  excitedly.  "  Him  an'  his 
friends  warn't  able  ter  cut  them  off,  like  they 
done  the  ropes." 

A  search  was  organized  in  hot  haste.  Every 
cabin,  the  corn-fields,  the  woods  near  at  hand, 
were  ransacked.  Parties  went  beating  about 
through  the  dense  undergrowth.  They  climbed 
the  ledges  of  great  crags.  They  hovered  with 
keen  eyes  above  dark  abysses.  They  pursued 
for  hours  a  tortuous  course  down  a  deep  gorge, 
strewn  with  gigantic  bowlders,  washed  by  the 
wintry  torrents  into  divers  channelings,  over- 
hung by  cliffs  hundreds  of  feet  high,  honey- 
combed with  fantastic  niches  and  rifts.  What 
futile  quest !  What  vastness  of  mountain  wil- 
derness ! 

The  great  sun  went  down  in  a  splendid  suf- 
fusion of  crimson  color  and  a  translucent  golden 
haze,  with  a  purple  garb  for  the  mountains  and 
a  glamourous  dream  for  the  sky,  and  bestowing 
far  and  near  the  gilded  license  of  imagination. 

The  searchers  were  hard  at  it  until  late  into 
the  night;  never  a  clew  to  encourage  them, 
never  a  hope  to  lure  them  on.  More  than  once 


GREAT  SMOKY  MOUNTAINS.  119 

they  flagged,  these  sluggish  mountaineers,  who 
had  passed  the  day  in  unwonted  excitement, 
and  had  earned  their  night's  rest.  But  the 
penalties  of  refusing  to  aid  the  officer  of  the  law 
spurred  them  on.  Even  old  Hoodendin  —  not 
so  old  as  to  be  exempt  from  this  duty,  for  the 
sheriff  had  summoned  every  available  man  at 
the  Settlement  to  his  assistance  —  hobbled  from 
stone  to  stone,  from  one  rotting  log  to  another, 
where  he  sat  down  to  recuperate  from  his  exer- 
tions. The  search  degenerated  into  a  mere 
form,  an  aimless  beating  about  in  the  brush,  be- 
fore Micajah  Green  could  be  induced  to  relin- 
quish the  hope  of  capture,  and  blow  the  horn  as 
a  signal  for  reassembling.  The  bands  of  fagged- 
out  men,  straggling  back  to  the  Settlement  to- 
ward dawn,  found  reciprocal  satisfaction  in 
expressing  the  opinion  that  'Cajah  Green  had 
"  keerlessly  let  Rick  git  away,  an'  warn't  a-goin' 
ter  mend  the  matter  by  incitin'  the  mounting 
ter  bust  'round  the  woods  like  a  lot  o'  crazy 
deer  all  night,  ter  find  a  man  ez  warn't  no- 
whar." 

They  wore  surly  enough  faces  as  they  gath- 
ered about  the  door  of  the  store,  or  lounged  on 
the  stumps  and  the  few  chairs,  waiting  for  a 
mounted  party  that  had  been  ordered  to  extend 
the  search  down  in  the  adjacent  coves  and  along 
the  spurs.  The  agile  Jer'miah  scudded  about, 


120  THE  PROPHET  OF  THE 

furnishing  such  consolation  as  can  be  contained 
in  a  jug.  Had  the  quest  resulted  differently, 
they  would  have  laughed  and  joked  and  ca- 
roused till  daybreak.  As  it  was,  their  talk  was 
fragmentary  ;  slight  and  innuendo  were  in  every 
word.  The  sheriff  had  supplemented  his  own 
negligence  by  a  grievous  disregard  of  their  com- 
fort, and  the  sense  of  defeat,  so  bitter  to  an 
American  citizen,  completed  the  aesthetic  misery 
of  the  situation. 

The  wagons  still  stood  about  in  the  clearing  ; 
here  and  there  the  burly  dark  steers  lay  rumi- 
nant and  half  asleep  among  the  stumps.  Among 
them,  too,  were  the  cattle  of  the  place ;  the 
cows,  milked  late  the  evening  before,  had  not 
yet  roamed  away.  Against  a  dark  background 
of  blackberry  bushes  a  white  bull  stood  in  the 
moonlight,  motionless,  the  lustre  gilding  his 
horns  and  touching  his  great  sullen  eyes  with  a 
spark  of  amber  light.  In  his  imperious  stillness 
he  looked  like  a  statue  of  a  masquerading  Jupi- 
ter. 

A  sound.  "  Hist !  "  said  the  sheriff.' 
The  moon,  low  in  the  west,  was  drawing  a 
seine  of  fine-spun  gold  across  the  dark  depths  of 
the  valley.  In  that  enchanted  enmeshment 
were  tangled  all  the  fancies  of  the  night ;  the 
vague  magic  of  dreams ;  vagrant  romances,  dumb 
but  for  the  pulses  ;  the  gleams  of  a  poetry,  too 


GREAT  SMOKY  MOUNTAINS.  121 

delicately  pellucid  to  be  focused  by  a  pen.  The 
mountains  maintained  a  majesty  of  silence.  All 
the  world  beneath  was  still.  The  wind  was 
laid.  Far,  far  away,  once  again,  a  sound. 

So  indistinct,  so  undistinguishable,  —  they 
hardly  knew  if  they  had  heard  aright.  There 
was  a  sudden  scuffle  near  at  hand.  Over  one 
of  the  rail  fences,  gleaming  wet  with  dew,  and 
rich  with  the  loan  of  a  silver  beam,  there 
climbed  a  long,  lean  old  hound  ;  with  an  anx- 
ious aspect  he  ran  to  the  verge  of  the  crag. 
Once  more  that  sound,  alien  alike  to  the  moun- 
tain solitudes  and  the  lonely  sky;  then  the 
deep-mouthed  baying  broke  forth,  waking  all 
the  echoes,  and  rousing  all  the  dogs  in  the  cove 
as  well  as  the  canine  visitors  and  residents  at 
the  Settlement. 

"  Dod-rot  that  critter  !  "  exclaimed  the  sher- 
iff, angrily.  "  We  can't  hear  nuthin'  now  but 
his  long  jaw." 

"  Jes'  say  '  Silence  in  court ! '  "  suggested 
Amos  James  from  where  he  lay  at  length  in 
the  grass. 

The  sheriff  nimbly  kicked  the  dog  instead, 
and  the  night  was  filled  with  wild  shrieks  of 
pain  and  anger.  When  his  barking  was  re- 
newed it  was  punctuated  with  sharp,  reminis- 
cent yelps,  as  the  injustice  of  his  treatment  ever 
and  anon  recurred  to  his  mind.  The  sound  of 


122  THE  PROPHET  OF  THE 

human  voices  grew  very  distinct  when  it  could 
be  heard  at  all,  and  the  tramp  of  approaching 
horses  shook  the  ground. 

Every  eye  was  turned  toward  the  point  at 
which  the  road  came  into  the  Settlement,  be- 
tween the  densities  of  the  forest  and  the  gleam- 
ing array  of  shining,  curved  blades  and  tossing 
plumes,  where  the  corn-field  spread  its  martial 
suggestions.  When  an  equestrian  shadow  sud- 
denly appeared,  the  sheriff  saluted  it  in  a  tremor 
of  excitement. 

"  Hello  !  "  he  shouted.    "  Did  ye  ketch  him  ?  " 

The  foremost  of  the  party  rode  slowly  for- 
ward :  the  horse  was  jaded  ;  the  rider  slouched 
in  the  saddle  with  an  aspect  of  surly  exhaustion. 

"  Ketch  him !  "  thundered  out  Gid  Fletcher's 
gruff  voice.  "  Ketch  the  devil !  " 

The  bold-faced  deputy  was  brazening  it  out. 
He  rode  up  with  as  dapper  a  style  as  a  man 
may  well  maintain  who  has  been  in  the  saddle 
ten  hours  without  food,  sustained  only  by  the 
strength  of  a  "  tickler  "  in  his  pocket,  whose 
prospects  are  jeopardized  and  whose  official  pres- 
tige is  ruined.  The  demeanor  of  the  other  rid- 
ers expressed  varying  degrees  of  injured  disaf- 
fection as  they  threw  themselves  from  their 
horses. 

The  blacksmith  dismounted  in  front  of  the 
cumbersome  doors  of  his  shop,  on  which  still 


GREAT  SMOKY  MOUNTAINS.  123 

hung  the  sheriff's  padlock,  and  with  tne  stiff 
gait  of  one  who  has  ridden  long  and  hard  he 
strode  across  the  clearing,  and  stopped  before 
the  group  in  front  of  the  store. 

He  looked  infuriated.  It  might  have  been  a 
matter  of  wonder  that  so  tired  a  man  could 
nourish  !fe  strong  and  active  a  passion. 

"  Look-a-hyar,  'Cajah  Green ! "  he  exclaimed, 
with  an  oath,  "  folks  'low  ter  me  ez  I  ain't  got 
no  right  ter  my  reward  fur  ketchin'  that  thar 
greased  peeg,  —  ez  ye  hed  ter  leave  go  of,  — 
kase  he  warn't  landed  in  jail  or  bailed.  That 
air  the  law,  they  tells  me." 

"  That 's  the  law,"  replied  the  sheriff.  His 
chair  was  tilted  back  against  the  wall  of  the 
store,  his  hat  drawn  over  his  brow.  He  spoke 
with  the  calmness  of  desperation. 

"  Then  'pears-like  ter  me  ez  I  hev  hed  all  my 
trouble  fur  nuthin',  an'  all  the  resk  I  hev  tuk," 
said  the  blacksmith,  coming  close,  and  mechani- 
cally rolling  up  the  sleeve  of  his  hammer-arm. 

"Edzac'ly." 

The  blacksmith  turned  on  him  a  look  like  that 
of  a  wounded  bear.  "  An'  ye  sit  thar  ez  peace- 
ful ez  skim-milk,  an*  'low  ez  ye  hev  let  my  two 
hunderd  dollars  slip  away  ? "  he  demanded. 
"  Dadburn  yer  greasy  soul !  " 

"  I  hopes  it  air  all  I  hev  let  slip,"  said  the 
sheriff,  quietly.  There  was  so  much  besides 


124  THE  PROPHET  OF  THE 

which  he  had  cause  to  fear  that  it  did  not  oc- 
cur to  him  to  be  afraid  of  the  blacksmith. 

Perhaps  it  was  the  subacute  perception  that 
he  shared  the  officer's  attention  with  more  en- 
grossing subjects  which  had  the  effect  of  temper- 
ing Gid  Fletcher's  anger. 

The  rim  of  the  moon  was  slipping  behind  the 
purple  heights  of  Chilhowee.  Day  was  sud- 
denly upon  them,  though  the  sun  had  not  yet 
risen,  —  when  did  the  darkness  flee  ?  —  the  day, 
cool,  with  a  freshness  as  of  a  new  creation,  and 
with  an  atmosphere  so  clear  that  one  might 
know  the  ash  from  the  oak  in  the  deep  green 
depths  of  the  wooded  valley.  The  hour  had  not 
yet  done  with  witchery  :  the  rose-red  cloud  was 
in  the  east,  and  the  wild  red  rose  had  burst  its 
bud ;  a  mocking-bird  sprang  from  its  nest  in  a 
dogwood-tree,  with  a  scintillating  wing  and  a 
soaring  song,  and  a  ray  of  sunlight  like  a  magic 
wand  fell  athwart,  the  landscape. 

Gid  Fletcher  sat  vaguely  staring.  Presently 
he  lifted  his  hand  with  a  sudden  gesture  de- 
manding attention. 

"  Ye  ain't  goin'  ter  be  'lected,  air  ye,  'Cajah 
Green?" 

The  sheriff  stirred  uneasily.  His  ambition, 
a  little  and  a  selfish  thing,  was  the  index  to  his 
soul.  Without  it  he  himself  would  not  be  able 
to  find  the  page  whereon  was  writ  all  that  there 


GREAT  SMOKY  MOUNTAINS.  125 

was  of  the  spiritual  within  him.  He  writhed 
to  forego  it. 

"  Naw,"  he  said,  desperately,  "  I  s'pose  I 
ain't."  He  pushed  his  hat  back  nervously. 

He  heard,  without  marking,  the  sudden  rat- 
tling of  one  of  the  wagons  that  had  left  some 
time  ago :  it  was  crossing  a  rickety  bridge  near 
the  foot  of  the  mountain ;  the  hollow  reverber- 
ations rose  and  fell,  echoed  and  died  away. 
One  of  the  cabin  doors  opened,  and  a  man 
came  out  upon  the  porch.  He  washed  his  face 
in  a  tin  pan  which  stood  on  a  bench  for  the 
public  toilet,  treated  his  head  to  a  refreshing 
souse,  and  then,  with  the  water  dripping  from 
his  long  locks  upon  the  shoulders  of  his  shirt, 
the  bold-faced  deputy,  much  refreshed  by  a 
snack  and  his  ablutions,  came  lounging  across 
the  clearing  to  join  them. 

Suddenly  Micajah  Green  noted  that  the 
blacksmith  was  looking  at  him,  with  a  signifi- 
cant gleam  in  his  black  eyes  and  a  flush  on  his 
swarthy  face. 

"  Who  said  ye  warn't  goin'  ter  be  'lected  ?  " 

"  Why,  this  hyar  prophet  o'  yourn  on  the 
Big  Smoky." 

"  Why  did  he  low  ez  that  warn't  comin'  ter 
pass?" 

"  He  would  n't  gin  no  reason." 

"  He  lef  ye  ter  find  that  out  An'  ye  fund 
it  out  ?  " 


126  THE  PROPHET  OF  THE 

The  sheriff  said  nothing.  He  was  breath- 
lessly intent. 

"  An'  he  met  me  in  the  woods,  an'  'lowed  ez 
Rick  Tyler  ought  n't  ter  be  tuk,  an'  hed  done 
no  wrong;  an'  he  called  the  g*ov'nor's  reward 
blood  money,  an'  worked  hisself  nigh  up  ter  the 
shoutin'  p'int ;  an'  called  me  '  Judas '  fur  takin' 
the  boy,  sence  me  an'  him  hed  been  frien'ly, 
an'  'lowed  ez  them  thar  thirty  pieces  o'  silver 
warn't  out  o'  circulation  yit." 

"  An'  then,"  the  bold-faced  deputy  struck  in, 
"  he  rode  up  yestiddy,  a-raisin'  a  great  wonder- 
mint  over  a  gaynder-pullin',  ez  if  thar  'd  never 
been  one  before  ;  purtendin'  't  war  wicked,  like 
he  'd  never  killed  an'  eat  a  fowel,  an'  drawin'  pis- 
tols, an'  raisin'  a  great  commotion  an'  excitin' 
an'  cfestractin'  the  Settlemint,  so  a  man  hand- 
cuffed, an'  with  a  rope  twisted  round  his  arms 
an'  legs,  gits  out  of  a  house  right  under  thar 
nose,  an'  runs  away.  Rick  Tyler  could  n't  hev 
done  it  'thout  them  ropes  war  cut,  an'  he  war 
gin  a  chance  ter  sneak  out.  Now,  I  ain't  a 
prophet  by  natur,  but  I  kin  say  who  cut  them 
ropes,  an'  who  raised  a  disturbament  outside  ter 
gin  him  a  chance  ter  mosey." 

"Whar's  he  now?"  demanded  the  sheriff, 
rising  from  his  chair  and  glancing  about. 

"  He  was  a-huntin'  with  the  posse,  las'  night," 
said  the  deputy.  "  He  never  lef  till  'bout  an 


GREAT  SMOKY  MOUNTAINS.  127 

hour  ago.     He  never  wanted  nobody  ter  'spicion 
nuthin',  I  reckon.     Mebbe  that 's  him  now." 

He  pointed  to  a  road  in  the  valley,  a  tawny 
streak  elusively  appearing  upon  a  hilltop  or 
skirting  a  rocky  spur,  soon  lost  in  a  sea  of  fo- 
liage. Beside  a  harvested  wheat-field  it  was 
again  visible,  and  a  tiny  moving  object  might 
be  discerned  by  eyes  trained  to  the  long  stretches 
of  mountain  landscape.  The  sun  was  higher, 
the  dew  exhaled  in  warm  and  languishing  per- 
fume, the  mocking-bird  filled  the  air  with  ec- 
stasy. The  men  stood  among  their  elongated 
shadows  on  the  crag  staring  at  the  moving  ob- 
ject until  it  reached  the  dense  woods,  and  so 
passed  out  of  sight. 


128  THE  PROPHET  OF  THE 


VII. 

DOWN  a  precipitous  path,  hardly  more  civil- 
ized of  aspect  than  if  it  were  trodden  by  the 
deer,  filled  with  interlacing  roots,  barricaded  by 
long  briery  tangles,  overhung  by  brush  and  over- 
shadowed by  trees,  —  down  this  sylvan  way 
Dorinda,  followed  by  Jacob  and  one  or  two  of 
the  companionable  old  hounds,  was  wont  to  go 
to  the  spring  under  the  crag. 

The  spot  had  its  fascinations.  The  great 
beetling  cliff  towered  far  above,  the  jagged  line 
of  its  summit  serrating  the  zenith.  Its  rugged 
face  was  seamed  with  many  a  fissure,  and  here 
and  there  were  clumps  of  ferns,  a  swaying  vine, 
a  huckleberry  bush  that  fed  the  birds  of  the  air. 
Below  surged  the  tops  of  the  trees.  There  was 
a  shelving  descent  from  the  base  of  the  crag, 
and  Jacob  must  needs  have  heed  of  the  rocky 
depths  beneath  in  treading  the  narrow  ledge 
that  led  to  a  great  cavernous  niche  in  the  face 
of  the  rock.  Here  in  a  deep  cleft  welled  the 
never-failing  spring.  It  always  reminded  Do- 
rinda of  that  rock  which  Moses  smote ;  although, 
of  course,  when  she  thought  of  it,  she  said, 
she  knew  that  Mount  Horeb  was  in  Jefferson 


GREAT  SMOKY  MOUNTAINS.  129 

County,  because  a  man  who  had  married  her 
brother's  wife's  cousin  had  an  aunt  who  lived 
there.  And  when  she  had  abandoned  that  un- 
conscious effort  to  bring  the  great  things  near, 
she  would  sit  upon  the  rock  and  look  with  a 
sigh  of  pleasure  at  that  pure,  outgushing  lim- 
pidity, unfailing  and  unchanging,  and  say  it 
reminded  her  of  the  well-springs  of  pity. 

One  day,  as  she  sat  there,  her  dreaming  head 
thrown  back  upon  her  hands  clasped  behind  it, 
there  sounded  a  sudden  step  close  by.  The  old 
hounds,  lying  without  the  cavernous  recess, 
could  see  along  the  upward  vista  of  the  path, 
and  their  low  growl  was  rather  in  surly  recog- 
nition than  in  active  defiance.  Dorinda  and 
Jacob,  within  the  great  niche,  beheld  naught 
but  the  distant  mountain  landscape  framed  in 
the  rugged  arch  above  their  heads.  The  step 
did  not  at  once  advance ;  it  hesitated,  and  then 
Amos  James  came  slowly  into  view.  Dorinda 
looked  up  dubiously  at  him,  and  it  occurred  to 
him  that  this  was  the  accepted  moment  to  ex- 
amine the  lock  of  his  gun. 

"  Howdy,"  he  ventured,  as  he  turned  the 
rifle  about. 

She  had  assumed  a  more  constrained  attitude, 
and  had  unclasped  her  hands  from  behind  her 
head.  The  seat  was  a  low  one,  and  the  dark 
blue  folds  of  her  homespun  dress  fell  about  her 

9 


130  THE  PROPHET  OF  THE 

with  simple  amplitude.  Her  pink  calico  sun- 
bonnet  lay  on  the  rock  under  her  elbow.  The 
figure  of  the  pudgy  Jacob  in  the  foreground 
had  a  callow  grotesqueness.  He,  too,  under- 
took the  demeanor  he  had  learned  to  discrim- 
inate as  "  manners."  Outside,  the  old  dog 
snapped  at  the  flies. 

Amos  James  seemed  to  think  an  account  of 
himself  appropriate. 

"I  hev  been  a-huntm',"  he  said,  his  grave 
black  eyes  on  the  rifle  and  his  face  in  the 
shadow  of  his  big  white  hat.  "  I  happened  ter 
pass  by  the  house,  an'  yer  granny  said  ez  ye 
hed  started  down  hyar  arter  a  pail  o'  water, 
an'  I  'lowed  ez  I  'd  kem  an'  fetch  it  fur  ye." 

Dorinda  murmured  that  she  was  "  much 
obleeged,"  and  relapsed  into  silent  propriety. 

Extraordinary  gun !  It  really  seemed  as  if 
Amos  James  would  be  compelled  to  take  it  to 
pieces  then  and  there,  so  persistently  did  it  re- 
quire his  attention. 

.  Jacob,  whose  hearing  was  unimpaired,  but 
whose  education  in  the  v  specious  ways  of  those 
of  a  larger  growth  was  as  yet  incomplete,  got 
up  briskly.  Since  Amos  had  come  to  fetch  the 
pail  he  saw  no  reason  in  nature  why  the  pail 
should  not  be  fetched,  and  he  imagined  that 
the  return  was  in  order.  He  paused  for  a  mo- 
ment in  surprise  ;  then  seeing  that  no  one  else 


GREAT  SMOKY  MOUNTAINS.  131 

moved,  he  sat  down  abruptly.  But  for  her 
manners  Dorinda  could  have  laughed.  Amos 
James's  cheek  flushed  darkly  as  he  still  worked 
at  the  gun. 

"  I  s'pose  ez  you-uns  hev  hearn  the  news  ?  " 
he  remarked,  presently.  As  he  asked  the  ques- 
tion he  quickly  lifted  his  eyes. 

Ah,  what  laughing  lights  in  hers,  —  what 
radiant  joys  !  She  did  not  look  at  him.  Her 
gaze  was  turned  far  away  to  the  soft  horizon. 
Her  delicate  lips  had  such  dainty  curves.  Her 
pale  cheek  flushed  tumultuously.  She  leaned 
her  head  back  against  the  rock,  the  tendrils  of 
her  dark  hair  spreading  over  the  unyielding 
gray  stone,  which,  weather-shielded,  was  almost 
white.  In  its  dead,  dumb  finality  —  the  me- 
morial of  seas  ebbed  long  ago,  of  forms  of  life 
extinct  —  she  bore  it  a  buoyant  contrast.  She 
looked  immortal ! 

"  I  hev  hearn  the  news,"  she  said,  her  long 
lashes  falling,  and  with  quiet  circumspection,  at 
variance  with  the  triumph  in  her  face. 

He  looked  at  her  gravely,  breathlessly.  A 
new  idea  had  taken  possession  of  him.  The 
rescue,  —  it  was  a  strange  thing  !  Who  in 
the  Great  Smoky  Mountains  had  an  adequate 
temptation  to  risk  the  penalty  of  ten  years 
in  the  state -prison  for  rescuing  Rick  Tyler 
from  the  officers  of  the  law  ?  His  brothers  ?  — 


132  THE  PROPHET  OF  THE 

they  were  step-brothers.  His  father  was  dead. 
Affection  could  not  be  accounted  a  factor. 
Venom  might  do  more.  Some  reckless  enemy 
of  the  sheriff's  might  thus  have  craftily  com- 
passed his  ruin.  Then  there  suddenly  came 
upon  Amos  James  a  recollection  of  the  Cayces' 
grudge  against  Micajah  Green,  and  of  the  fact 
that  they  had  already  actively  bestirred  them- 
selves to  electioneer  against  him.  Once,  before 
it  all  happened,  Rick  Tyler  had  hung  persist- 
ently about  Dorinda,  and  perhaps  the  "  men- 
folks  "  approved  him.  Amos  remembered  too 
that  a  story  was  current  at  the  gander-pulling 
that  the  reason  the  Cayces  had  absented  them- 
selves and  were  lying  low  was  because  a  party 
of  revenue  raiders  had  been  heard  of  on  the 
Big  Smoky.  Who  had  heard  of  them,  and 
when  did  they  come,  and  where  did  they  go  ? 
It  seemed  a  fabrication,  a  cloak.  And  Do- 
rinda,—  she  was  the  impersonation  of  delighted 
triumph. 

"  Agged  the  men-folks  on,  I  reckon,"  he 
thought,  — "  agged  'em  on,  fur  the  sake  o' 
Rick  Tyler!" 

A  sense  of  despair,  quiet,  numbing,  was 
creeping  over  him. 

"  T  ain't  no  reg'lar  ail,  I  know,"  he  said  to 
himself,  "  but  I  b'lieve  it  '11  kill  me." 

Conversation  in  the  mountains  is  a  leisurely 


. 
GREAT  SMOKY  MOUNTAINS.  133 

procedure,  time  being  of  little  value.  The 
ensuing  pause,  however,  was  of  abnormal  du- 
ration, and  at  last  Amos  was  fain  to  break  it, 
albeit  irrelevantly. 

"  This  hyar  weather  is  gittin'  mighty  hot," 
he  observed,  taking  off  his  hat  and  fanning  him- 
self with  it.  "  I  feel  like  I  hed  been  dragged 
bodaciously  through  the  hopper." 

From  the  shaded  coolness  of  the  grotto  the 
girl  admitted  that  it  was  "  middlin'  warm." 

Despite  the  slumberous  sunshine  here,  all 
the  world  was  not  so  quiet.  Over  the  valley 
a  cloud  was  hovering,  densely  black,  but  with 
a  gray  nebulous  margin  ;  now  and  then  it  was 
rent  by  a  flash  of  lightning  in  swift  zigzag 
lines,  yet  the  mountains  beyond  were  a  tender 
blue  in  the  golden  glow  of  a  sunshine  yet  more 
tender. 

"  'Pears  like  they  air  gittin'  a  shower  over 
yander,  at  the  furder  eend  o'  the  cove,"  Do- 
rinda  remarked,  encouragingly.  "  Ef  it  war 
ter  storm  right  smart,  mebbe  the  thunder 
would  cool  the  air  some." 

"  Mebbe  so,"  he  assented. 

Then  he  marked  again  the  new  beauty 
abloom  in  her  face,  and  his  heart  sank  within 
him.  His  pride  was  touched,  too.  He  was  a 
man  well  to  do  for  the  "  mountings,"  with  his 
own  grist-mill,  and  a  widowed  mother  whose 


134  THE  PROPHET  OF  THE 

plaint  it  was,  night  and  day,  that  Amos  was 
"sech  a  slowly  boy  ter  git  married,  an'  the 
Lord  knows  thar  oughter  be  somebody  roun' 
the  house  spry'r  'n  a  pore  old  woman  mighty 
nigh  fifty  year  old,  —  yes,  sir  !  a-goin'  on  fifty. 
An'  I  want  ter  live  down  ter  Emmert's  Cove 
along  o'  Malviny,  my  married  darter,"  she 
would  insist,  "  whar  thar  air  chillen,  an'  babies 
ter  look  arter,  an'  not  sech  a  everlastin'  gang 
o'  men,  a-lopin'  'round  the  mill.  But  I  dunno 
what  Amos  would  do  ef  I  lef '  him." 

Evidently  it  was  a  field  for  a  daughter-in- 
law.  Amos  felt  in  his  secret  soul  that  this  was 
not  the  only  attraction.  He  was  well  favored 
and  tall  and  straight,  and  had  a  good  name  in 
the  county,  despite  his  pranks,  which  were 
leniently  regarded.  He  honestly  thought  that 
Dorinda  might  do  worse.  Whether  it  was  tact 
or  whether  it  was  delicacy,  he  did  not  allude 
to  the  worldly  contrast  with  the  fugitive  from 
justice. 

"I  s'pose  they  won't  ketch  Rick  agin,"  he 
hazarded. 

"  I  reckon  not,"  she  said,  demurely,  her  long 
black  lashes  again  falling. 

He  leaned  uneasily  on  his  gun,  looked  down 
at  his  great  boots  drawn  over  his  brown  jeans 
trousers  to  his  knees,  adjusted  his  leathern  belt, 
and  pulled  his  hat  a  trifle  farther  over  his  eyes. 


GREAT  SMOKY  MOUNTAINS.  135 

"  D'rindy,"  he  said,  suddenly,  "  ye  set  a  heap 
o'  store  on  Rick  Tyler." 

Then  he  was  doubtful,  and  feared  he  had  of- 
fended her. 

Her  sapphire  eyes,  with  their  leaping  blue 
lights  and  dark  clear  depths,  all  blended  and 
commingled  in  the  softest  brilliancy,  shone  upon 
him.  The  bliss  of  the  event  was  supreme. 

"  Mebbe  I  do,"  she  said. 

He  turned  and  looked  away  at  the  storm, 
seeming  ineffective  as  it  surged  in  the  distance. 
The  trees  in  the  cove  were  tossed  by  a  wind 
that  raged  on  a  lower  level,  as  if  it  issued  from 
-/Eolian  caverns  in  the  depths  of  the  range.  It 
was  a  wild,  aerial  panorama,  —  the  black  clouds, 
and  the  rain,  and  the  mist  rolling  through  the 
deep  gorge,  veined  with  lightnings  and  vocal 
with  thunder,  and  the  thunderous  echoes  among 
the  rocks. 

Not  a  leaf  stirred  on  the  mountain's  brow, 
and  the  great  "  bald  "  lifted  its  majestic  crest 
in  a  sunshine  all  unpaled,  and  against  the  up- 
per regions  of  the  air,  splendidly  blue.  There 
was  an  analogy  in  the  scene  with  his  mood  and 
hers. 

A  moment  ago  he  had  been  saying  to  himself 
that  he  did  not  want  to  be  "turned  off"  in 
favor  of  a  man  who  was  hunted  like  a  wild 
animal  through  the  woods ;  who,  if  his  luck  and 


136  THE  PROPHET  OF  THE 

his  friends  should  hold  out,  and  he  could  evade 
capture,  might  look  forward  to  naught  but  un- 
certainty and  a  fearful  life,  like  others  in  the 
Big  Smoky,  who  dared  not  open  their  own 
doors  to  a  summons  from  without,  skulking  in 
their  homes  like  beasts  in  their  den. 

The  dangers,  misfortunes,  and  indignities 
suffered  by  his  preferred  rival  were  an  added 
slur  upon  him,  who  had  all  the  backing  of  pro- 
pitious circumstance.  Since  there  was  nothing 
to  gain,  why  humble  himself  in  vain  ? 

This  was  his  logic,  —  sound,  just,  approved 
by  his  judgment ;  and  as  it  arranged  itself  in 
his  mind  with  all  the  lucidity  of  pure  reason, 
he  spoke  from  the  complex  foolish  dictates  of 
his  unreasoning  heart. 

"  I  hev  hoped  ter  marry  ye,  D'rindy,  like  I 
hev  hoped  fur  salvation,"  he  said,  abruptly. 

He  looked  at  her  now,  straight  and  earnestly, 
with  his  shaded,  serious  black  eyes.  Her  re- 
buking glance  slanted  beyond  him  from  under 
her  half-lifted  lashes. 

"  I  thought  ye  war  a  good  church  member," 
she  said,  unexpectedly. 

"  I  am.  But  that  don't  make  me  a  liar  ez  T 
knows  on.  I  'd  ruther  hear  ye  a-singin'  'roun' 
the  house  in  Eskaqua  Cove,  an'  a-callin'  the 
chickens,  an'  sech,  'n  ter  hear  all  the  angels  in 
heaven  a-quirin'  tergether." 


GREAT  SMOKY  MOUNTAINS.  137 

"  That  ain't  religion,  Amos  Jeemes,"  she  said, 
with  cool  disapproval. 

"  Waal,"  he  rejoined,  with  low-spirited  ob- 
stinacy, "  mebbe  't  ain't." 

There  was  a  delicate  odor  of  ferns  on  the  air ; 
the  cool,  outgushing  water  tinkled  on  the  stones 
like  a  chime  of  silver  bells ;  his  shadow  fell 
athwart  the  portal  as  he  leaned  on  his  rifle, 
and  his  wandering  glance  mechanically  swept 
the  landscape.  The  sudden  storm  had  passed, 
the  verge  of  the  cloud  hovering  so  near  that 
they  could  hear  the  last  heavy  raindrops  pat- 
tering on  the  tops  of  the  trees  in  Eskaqua  Cove. 
Vapors  were  rising  from  the  ravine ;  the  sun 
shone  upon  them,  throwing  a  golden  aureola 
about  the  opposite  mountains,  and  all  the 
wreathing  mists  that  the  wind  whirled  down 
the  valley  had  elusive,  opalescent  effects.  The 
thunder  muttered  in  the  distance;  the  sharp- 
bladed  lightnings  were  sheathed;  a  rainbow 
girdled  the  world,  that  had  sprung  into  a  magic 
beauty  as  if  cinctured  by  the  zone  of  Venus. 
The  arch  spanned  the  blue  sky,  and  on  the 
dark  mountains  extended  the  polychromatic 
reflection.  The  freshened  wind  came  rushing 
up  the  gorge,  and  the  tree-tops  bent. 

"  Look-a-hyar,  D'rindy,"  said  Amos  James, 
sturdily,  "  I  want  ye  ter  promise  me  one  thing." 

Dorinda  had  risen  in  embarrassment.  She 
looked  down  at  Jacob. 


138  THE  PROPHET  OF  THE 

"  It  air  about  time  fur  we-uns  ter  be  a-goin' 
ter  the  house,  I  reckon,"  she  said. 

But  Jacob  sat  still.  He  was  apt  in  "  takin' 
1'arnin',"  and  he  had  begun  to  perceive  that  his 
elders  did  not  always  mean  what  they  said. 
He  was  cool  and  comfortable,  and  content  to 
remain. 

"  I  want  ye  ter  promise  me  that  ef  ever  ye 
find  ez  ye  hev  thunk  too  well  o'  Rick  Tyler,  an' 
hev  sot  him  up  too  high  in  yer  mind  over  other 
folks,  ye  '11  let  me  know." 

Her  cheek  dimpled;  her  rare  laughter  fell 
on  the  air ;  a  fervid  faith  glowed  in  her  deep, 
bright  eyes. 

"  I  promise  ye  ! " 

"  Ye  think  Rick  Tyler  air  mighty  safe  in  that 
promise,"  he  rejoined,  crestfallen. 

But  Dorinda  would  say  no  more. 


GREAT  SMOKY  MOUNTAINS.  139 


VIII. 

THE  disappointment  which  Amos  James  ex- 
perienced found  expression  in  much  the  same 
manner  as  that  of  many  men  of  higher  culture. 
He  went  down  to  his  home  in  Eskaqua  Cove, 
moody  and  morose.  He  replied  to  his  chirping 
mother  in  discouraging  monosyllables.  In  taci- 
turn disaffection  he  sat  on  the  step  of  the  little 
porch,  and  watched  absently  a  spider  weaving 
her  glittering  gossamer  maze  about  an  over- 
hanging mass  of  purple  grapes,  with  great 
green  leaves  that  were  already  edged  with  a 
rusty  red  and  mottled  with  brown.  A  mocking- 
bird boldly  perched  among  them,  ever  and 
anon,  the  airy  grace  of  his  pose  hardly  giving, 
in  its  exquisite  lightness,  4he  effect  of  a  pause. 
The  bird  swallowed  the  grapes  whole  with  a 
mighty  gulp,  and  presently  flew  away  with  one 
in  his  bill  for  the  refreshment  of  his  family, 
whose  vibratory  clamor  in  an  althea  bush  hard 
by  mingled  with  the  drone  of  the  grasshoppers 
in  the  wet  grass,  louder  than  ever  since  the 
rain,  and  the  persistent  strophe  and  antistrophe 
of  the  frogs  down  on  the  bank  of  the  mill-pond. 

"  Did  they  git  enny  shower  up  in  the  moun- 


140  THE  PROPHET  OF  THE 

ting,  Amos?"  demanded  his  mother,  as  she 
sat  knitting  on  the  porch,  —  a  thin  little  woman, 
with  a  nervous,  uncertain  eye  and  a  drawling, 
high-pitched  voice. 

"  Naw  'm,"  said  Amos,  "  not  ez  I  knows  on." 

"  I  reckon  ye  'd  hev  knowed  ef  ye  hed  got 
wet,"  she  said,  with  asperity.  "  Ye  hain't  got 
much  f  eelin',  no  ways,  —  yer  manners  shows  it, 
—  but  I  'low  ye  would  feel  the  rain  ef.it  kem 
down  right  smart,  or  ef  ye  war  streck  by  light- 
ninV 

There  was  no  retort,  and  from  the  subtle  dis- 
appointment in  the  little  woman's  eye  it  might 
have  seemed  that  to  inaugurate  a  controversy 
would  have  been  more  filial,  so  bereft  of  con- 
versational opportunity  was  her  lonely  life, 
where*  only  a  u  gang  o'  men  loped  'round  the 
mill." 

She  knitted  on  with  a  sharp  clicking  of  the 
needles  for  a  time,  tarrying  the  thread  on  a 
gnarled  fourth  finger,  which  seemed  unnaturally 
active  for  that  member,  and  somehow  officious. 

"  I  '11  be  bound  ye  went  ter  Cayce's  house," 
she  said,  aggressively. 

There  was  another  long  pause.  The  empty 
dwelling  behind  them  was  so  still  that  one 
could  hear  the  footsteps  of  an  intruding  rooster, 
as  he  furtively  entered  at  the  back  door. 

"  Shoo  !  "  she  said,  shaking  her  needles  at 


GREAT  SMOKY  MOUNTAINS.  141 

him,  as  she  bent  forward  and  saw  him  standing 
in  the  slant  of  the  sunshine,  all  his  red  and 
yellow  feathers  burnished.  He  had  one  foot 
poised  motionless,  and  looked  at  her  with  a  re- 
proving side-glance,  as  if  he  could  not  believe 
he  had  caught  the  drift  of  her  remarks.  An- 
other gesture,  more  pronounced  than  the  first, 
and  he  went  scuttling  out,  his  wings  half  spread 
and  his  toe-nails  clattering  on  the  puncheoti 
floor.  "  Ye  went  ter  Cayce's,  I  '11  be  bound, 
and  hyar  ye  be,  with  nuthin'  ter  tell.  Ef  I 
war  free  ter  jounce  'round  the  mounting  same 
ez  the  idle,  shif'less  men-folks,  who  hev  got 
nuthin'  ter  do  but  eye  a  mill  ez  the  water 
works,  I  'd  hev  so  much  ter  tell  whenst  I  got 
home  that  ye  'd  hev  ter  tie  me  in  a  cheer  ter 
keep  me  from  talkin'  myself  away,  like  some- 
body happy  with  religion.  An'  hyar  ye  be, 
actin'  like  ye  hed  no  ino'  gift  o'  speech  'n  the 
rooster.  Shoo  !  Shoo  !  Whar  did  ye  go,  enny- 
how,  when  ye  war  on  the  mounting  ?  " 

"  A-huntin',"  said  Amos. 

"  Huntin'  D'rindy  Cayce,  I  reckon.  An'  ye 
never  got  her,  ter  jedge  from  yer  looks.  An'  I 
ain't  got  the  heart  ter  blame  the  gal.  Sech  a 
lonesome,  say-nuthin'  husband  ye  'd  make  !  " 

The  sharp  click  of  her  knitting-needles  filled 
the  pause.  But  her  countenance  had  relaxed. 
She  was  in  a  measure  enjoying  the  conversation, 


142  THE  PROPHET  OF  THE 

since  the  spice  of  her  own  share  atoned  for  the 
lack  of  news  or  satisfactory  response. 

"  Air  old  Mis'  Cayce's  gyarden-truck  suff'rin' 
fur  rain  ?  " 

There  was  a  gleam  of  hopeful  expectation 
behind  her  spectacles.  With  her  reeking 
"  gyarden-spot "  dripping  with  raindrops,  and 
the  smell  of  thyme  and  sage  and  the  damp 
mould  on  the  air,  she  could  afford  some  pity  as 
an  added  flavor  for  her  pride. 

"  Never  looked  ter  see,"  murmured  her  son, 
between  two  long  whiffs  from  his  pipe. 

His  mother  laid  her  knitting  on  her  lap. 
"  I  '11  be  bound,  Amos  Jeemes,  ez  ye  never  tole 
her  how  'special  our'n  war  a-thrivin'  this  sea- 
son." 

"  Naw  'm,"  said  Amos,  a  trifle  more  promptly 
than  usual,  "  I  never.  'Fore  I  'd  go  a-crowin' 
over  old  Mis'  Cayce  'bout'n  our  gyarden-truck 
I'd  see  it  withered  in  a  night,  like  Jonah's 
gourd." 

"  It 's  the  Lord's  han',"  said  his  mother 
quickly,  in  self -justification.  "  I  ain't  been 
prayin'  fur  no  drought  in  Mis'  Cayce's  gyar- 
den-spot." 

Another  long  pause  ensued.  The  sun  shin- 
ing through  a  bunch  of  grapes  made  them  seem 
pellucid  globes  of  gold  and  amber  and  crimson 
among  others  darkly  purple  in  the  shadow.  The 


GREAT  SMOKY  MOUNTAINS.  143 

mocking-bird  came  once  more  a-foraging.  A 
yellow  and  red  butterfly  flickered  around  in 
the  air,  as  if  one  of  the  tiger-lilies  there  by 
the  porch  had  taken  wings  and  was  wantoning 
about  in  the  wind.  On  the  towering  bald  of 
the  mountain  a  cloud  rested,  obscuring  the 
dome,  —  a  cloud  of  dazzling  whiteness,  —  and 
it  seemed  as  if  the  mountain  had  been  admitted 
to  some  close  communion  with  the  heavens. 
Below,  the  color  was  intense,  so  deeply  green 
were  the  trees,  so  clear  and  sharp  a  gray  were 
the  crags,  so  blue  were  the  shadows  in  the 
ravines.  Amos  was  looking  upward.  He  looked 
upward  much  of  the  time. 

"  See  old  Groundhog  ?  "  inquired  his  mother, 
suddenly. 

"  Whar  ?"  he  demanded  with  a  start,  break- 
ing from  his  reverie. 

"  Laws-a-massy,  boy !  "  she  exclaimed,  in  ex- 
asperation. "  Whenst  ye  war  up  ter  the  Cayces', 
this  mornin'." 

"  Naw  5m,"  said  Amos.  He  had  never  ad- 
mitted, save  by  indirection,  that  he  had  been 
to  the  Cayces'. 

"  War  he  gone  ter  the  still  ?  " 

"  I  never  axed." 

"  I  s'pose  not,  bein'  ez  ye  never  drinks  nnthin' 
but  buttermilk,  do  ye  ?  "  —  this  with  a  scathing 
inflection. 


144  THE  PROPHET  OF  THE 

She  presently  sighed  deeply.  "  Waal,  waal. 
The  millinium  an'  the  revenue  will  git  thar 
rights  one  of  these  days,  I  hopes  an'  prays. 
I  'in  a  favorin'  of  ennythink  ez  '11  storp  sin  an' 
a-swillin'  o'  liquor.  Tax  'em  all,  I  say  !  Tax 
the  sinners !  " 

She  had  assumed  a  pious  aspect,  and  spoke 
in  a  tone  of  drawling  solemnity,  with  a  vague 
idea  that  the  whiskey  tax  was  in  the  interest  of 
temperance,  and  the  revenue  department  was 
a  religious  institution.  The  delusions  of  igno- 
rance ! 

"  Thar  ain't  ez  much  drunk  nohow  now  ez 
thar  useter  war.  I  'members  when  I  war  a  gal 
whiskey  war  so  cheap  that  up  to  the  store  at 
the  Settlemint  they  'd  hev  a  bucket  set  full  o' 
whiskey  an'  a  gourd,  free  fur  all  comers,  an'  an- 
other bucket  alongside  with  water  ter  season  it. 
An'  the  way  that  thar  water  lasted  war  surpris- 
in',  —  that  it  war !  Nowadays  ye  ain't  goin' 
ter  find  liquor  so  plenty  nowhar,  'cept  mebbe 
at  old  Groundhog's  still." 

Amos  made  no  reply.  His  eyes  were  fixed 
on  the  road.  A  man  on  an  old  white  horse  had 
emerged  from  the  woods,  and  was  slowly  amb- 
ling toward  the  mill.  The  crazy  old  structure 
was  like  a  caricature ;  it  seemed  that  only  by  a 
lapse  of  all  the  rules  of  interdependent  timbers 
did  it  hang  together,  with  such  oblique  disre- 


GREAT  SMOKY  MOUNTAINS.  145 

gard  of  rectangles.  Its  doors  and  windows 
were  rhomboidal ;  its  supports  tottered  in  the 
water.  The  gate  was  shut.  The  whir  was 
hushed.  A  sleep  lay  upon  the  pond,  save 
where  the  water  fell  like  a  silver  veil  over  the 
dam.  Even  this  motion  was  dreamy  and  som- 
nambulistic. On  the  other  side  of  the  stream 
the  great  sandstone  walls  of  the  channel  showed 
the  water-marks  of  flood  and  fall  of  past  years, 
cut  in  sharp  levels  and  registered  in  the  rock. 
They  beetled  here  and  there,  and  the  verdure 
on  the  summits  looked  over  and  gave  the  deep 
waters  below  the  grace  of  a  dense  and  shady 
reflection.  Above  the  dark  old  roof  on  every 
hand  the  majestic  encompassing  mountains  rose 
against  the  sky,  and  the  cove  nestled  seques- 
tered from  the  world  in  this  environment. 

The  man  on  the  gaunt  white  horse  suddenly 
paused,  seeing  the  mill  silent  and  lonely ;  his 
eyes  turned  to  the  little  house  farther  down  the 
stream. 

"  Hello !  "  he  yelled.  "  I  kern  hyar  ter  git 
some  gris'  groun'." 

"  Grin*  yer  gris'  yerse'f,"  vociferated  the 
miller,  cavalierly  renouncing  his  vocation.  "  I 
hev  no  mind  ter  go  a-medjurin  o'  toll." 

Thus   privileged,    the   stranger   dismounted, 
went  into  the  old  mill,  himself  lifted  the  gate, 
and  presently  the  musical  whir  broke  forth.   It 
10 


146  THE  PROPHET  OF  THE 

summoned  an  echo  from  the  mountain  that  was 
hardly  like  a  reflection  of  its  simple,  industrial 
sound,  so  elfin,  so  romantically  faint,  so  fitful 
and  far,  it  seemed  !  The  pond  awoke,  the  water 
gurgled  about  the  wheel,  the  tail-race  was  bil- 
lowy with  foam. 

Presently  there  was  silence.  The  gate  had 
fallen  ;  the  farmer  had  measured  the  toll,  and 
was  riding  away.  As  he  vanished  Amos  James 
rose  slowly,  and  began  to  stretch  his  stalwart 
limbs. 

"  I  'm  glad  ye  ain't  palsied  with  settin'  so 
long,  Amos,"  said  his  mother.  "  Ye  seem  ter 
hevlos'  interes'  in  every  think  'ceptin'  the  door- 
step. Lord  A'mighty  !  I  never  thunk  ez  ye  'd 
grow  up  ter  be  sech  pore  comp'ny.  No  wonder 
ez  D'rindy  hardens  her  heart !  An'  when  ye 
war  a  baby,  —  my  sakes  !  I  could  set  an'  list'n 
ter  yer  jowin'  all  day.  An  sech  comp'ny  ye 
war,  when  ye  could  n't  say  a  word  an'  hed  n't  a 
tooth  in  yer  head  !  " 

He  lived  in  continual  rivalry  with  this 
younger  self  in  his  mother's  affections.  She 
was  one  of  those  women  whose  maternal  love 
is  expressed  in  an  idolatry  of  infancy.  She 
could  not  forgive  him  for  outgrowing  his  baby- 
hood, and  regarded  every  added  year  upon  his 
head  as  a  sort  of  affront  and  a  sorrow. 

He  strode  away,  still  gloomily  downcast,  and 


GREAT  8MOK7  MOUNTAINS.  147 

when  the  woman  next  looked  up  she  saw  him 
mounted  on  his  bay  horse,  and  riding  toward 
the  base  of  the  mountain. 

"  Waal,  sir !  "  she  exclaimed,  taking  off  her 
spectacles  and  rubbing  the  glasses  on  her  blue- 
checked  apron,  "  D'rindy  Cayce  '11  hev  ter 
marry  that  thar  boy  ter  git  shet  o'  him.  I  hev 
never  hearn  o'  nobody  ridin'  up  that  thar  moun- 
ting twict  in  one  day  'thout  they  hed  suthin* 
'special  ter  boost  'em,  —  a-runnin'  from  the 
sher'ff,  or  sech." 

But  Amos  James  soon  turned  from  the  road, 
that  wound  in  long,  serpentine  undulations  to 
the  mountain's  brow,  and  pursued  a  narrow 
bridle-path,  leading  deep  into  the  dense  forests. 
It  might  have  seemed  that  he  was  losing  his 
way  altogether  when  the  path  disappeared 
among  the  bowlders  of  a  stream,  half  dry.  He 
followed  the  channel  up  the  rugged,  rock-girfc 
gorge  for  perhaps  a  mile,  emerging  at  length 
upon  a  slope  of  outcropping  ledges,  where  his 
horse  left  no  hoof-print.  Soon  he  struck  into 
the  laurel,  and  pressed  on,  guided  by  signs  dis- 
tinguishable only  to  the  initiated :  some  gro- 
tesque gnarling  of  limbs,  perhaps,  of  the  great 
trees  that  stretched  above  the  almost  impene- 
trable undergrowth  ;  some  projecting  crag,  vis- 
ible at  long  intervals,  high  up  and  cut  sharply 
against  the  sky.  All  at  once,  in  the  midst  of 


148  THE  PROPHET  OF  THE 

the  dense  laurel,  lie  came  upon  a  cavity  in  the 
side  of  the  mountain.  The  irregularly  shaped 
fissure  was  more  than  tall  enough  to  admit  a 
man.  He  stood  still  for  a  moment,  and  called 
his  own  name.  There  was  no  response  save  the 
echoes,  and,  dismounting,  he  took  the  bridle  and 
began  to  lead  the  horse  into  the  cave.  The 
animal  shied  dubiously,  protesting  against  this 
unique  translation  to  vague  subterranean 
spheres.  The  shadow  of  the  fissured  portal  fell 
upon  them  ;  the  light  began  to  grow  dim  ;  the 
dust  thickened.  As  Amos  glanced  over  his 
shoulder  he  could  see  the  woods  without  suffused 
with  a  golden  radiance,  and  there  was  a  fresh- 
ness on  the  intensely  green  foliage  as  if  it  were 
newly  washed  with  rain.  The  world  seemed 
suddenly  clarified,  and  tiny  objects  stood  out 
with  strange  distinctness ;  he  saw  the  twigs  on 
the  great  trees  and  the  white  tips  of  the  tail- 
feathers  of  a  fluttering  blue  jay.  Far  down  the 
aisles  of  the  forest  the  enchantment  held  its 
wonderful  sway,  and  he  felt  in  his  own  ignorant 
fashion  how  beautiful  is  the  accustomed  light. 
When  the  horse's  stumbling  feet  had  ceased  to 
sound  among  the  stones,  the  wilderness  without 
was  as  lonely  and  as  un suggestive  of  human  oc- 
cupation or  human  existence  as  when  the  Great 
Smoky  Mountains  first  rose  from  the  sea. 


GREAT  SMOKY  MOUNTAINS.  149 


IX. 


AMOS  and  his  steed  made  their  way  along  a 
narrow  passage,  growing  wider,  however,  and 
taller,  but  darker  and  with  many  short  turns, 
—  an  embarrassment  to  the  resisting  brute's 
physical  conformation. 

Suddenly  there  was  a  vague  red  haze  in  the 
dark,  the  sound  of  voices,  and  an  abrupt 
turn  brought  man  and  horse  into  a  great  sub- 
terranean vault,  where  dusky  distorted  figures, 
wreathing  smoke,  and  a  flare  of  red  fire  sug- 
gested Tartarus. 

"  Hy're,  Amos !  "  cried  a  hospitable  voice. 

A  weird  tone  repeated  the  words  with  pre- 
cipitate promptness.  Again  and  again  the  ab- 
rupt echoes  spoke ;  far  down  the  unseen  black- 
ness of  the  cave  a  hollow  whisper  announced  his 
entrance,  and  he  seemed  mysteriously  welcomed 
by  the  unseen  powers  of  the  earth.  He  was  not 
an  imaginative  man  nor  observant,  but  the  up- 
per regions  were  his  sphere,  and  he  had  all  the 
acute  sensitiveness  incident  to  being  out  of 
one's  element.  Even  after  he  had  seated  him- 
self he  noted  a  far,  faint  voice  crying,  "  Hy're, 
Amos  !  "  in  abysmal  depths  explored  only  by  the 
sound  of  his  name. 


150  THE  PROPHET  OF  THE 

And  here  it  was  that  old  Groundhog  Cayce 
evaded  the  law,  and  ran  his  still,  and  defied  the 
revenue  department,  and  maintained  his  right 
to  do  as  he  would  with  his  own. 

"  Lord  A'mighty,  air  the  corn  mine,  or  no?  " 
he  would  argue.  "  Air  the  orchard  mine  or  the 
raiders'  ?  An'  what  ails  me  ez  I  can't  make 
whiskey  an'  apple-jack  same  ez  in  my  dad's 
time,  when  him  an'  me  run  a  sour  mash  still 
on  the  top  o'  the  mounting  in  the  light  o'  day, 
up'ards  o'  twenty  year,  an'  never  hearn  o'  no 
raider?  Tell  me  that 's  agin  the  law,  nowadays  ! 
Waal,  now,  who  made  that  law  ?  I  never ;  an' 
I  ain't  a-goin'  ter  abide  by  it,  nuther.  Ez  sure 
ez  ye  air  born,  it  air  jes'  a  Yankee  trick  fetched 
down  hyar  by  the  Fed'ral  army.  An'  ef  I  lied 
knowed  they  war  goin'  ter  gin  tharse'fs  ter  sech 
persecutions  arter  the  war,  I  dun  no  how  I  'd  hev 
got  my  consent  ter  fit  alongside  of  'em  like  I 
done  fower  year  fur  the  Union." 

A  rude  furnace  made  of  fire-rock  was  the 
prominent  feature  of  the  place,  and  on  it  glim- 
mered the  pleasing  rotundities  of  a  small  copper 
still.  The  neck  curved  away  into  the  obscu- 
rity. There  was  the  sound  of  gurgling  water, 
with  vague  babbling  echoes  ;  for  the  never-fail- 
ing rill  of  an  underground  spring,  which  rose 
among  the  rocks,  was  diverted  to  the  unexpect- 
ed purpose  of  flowing  through  the  tub  where 


GREAT  SMOKY  MOUNTAINS.  151 

the  worm  was  coiled,  and  of  condensing  the 
precious  vapors,  which  dripped  monotonously 
into  their  rude  receiver  at  the  extremity  of  the 
primitive  fixtures.  The  iron  door  of  the  furnace 
was  open  now  as  Ab  Cayce  replenished  the  fire. 
It  sent  out  a  red  glare,  revealing  the  dark 
walls ;  the  black  distances ;  the  wreaths  of 
smoke,  that  were  given  a  start  by  a  short  chim- 
ney, and  left  to  wander  away  and  dissipate 
themselves  in  the  wide  subterranean  spaces; 
and  the  uncouth,  slouching  figures  and  illumi- 
nated faces  of  the  distillers.  They  lounged 
upon  the  rocks  or  sat  on  inverted  baskets  and 
tubs,  and  one  stalwart  fellow  lay  at  length  upon 
the  ground.  The  shadows  were  all  grotesquely 
elongated,  almost  divested  of  the  semblance  of 
humanity,  as  they  stretched  in  unnatural  pro- 
portions upon  the  rocks.  Amos  James's  horse 
cast  on  the  wall  an  image  so  gigantic  that  it 
seemed  as  if  the  past  and  the  present  were 
mysteriously  united,  and  he  stood  stabled  be- 
side the  grim  mastodon  whom  the  cave  had 
sheltered  from  the  rigors  of  his  day  long  before 
Groundhog  Cayce  was  moved  to  seek  a  refuge. 
The  furnace  door  clashed ;  the  scene  faded ; 
only  a  glittering  line  of  vivid  white  light,  emit- 
ted between  the  ill-fitting  door  and  the  unhewn 
rock,  enlivened  the  gloom.  Now  and  then,  as 
one  of  the  distillers  moved,  it  fell  upon  him,  and 


152  THE  PROPHET  OF  THE 

gave  his  face  an  abnormal  distinctness  in  the 
surrounding  blackness,  like  some  curiously  cut 
onyx. 

"  Waal,  Amos,"  said  a  voice  from  out  the 
darkness,  "  I  'm  middlin'  glad  ter  see  you-uns. 
Hev  a  drink." 

A  hand  came  out  into  the  gleaming  line  of 
light,  extending  with  a  flourish  of  invitation  a 
jug  of  jovial  aspect. 

"  Don't  keer  ef  I  .do,"  said  Amos,  politely. 
He  lifted  the  jug,  and  drank  without  stint.  The 
hand  received  it  back  again,  shook  it  as  if  to 
judge  of  the  quantity  of  its  contents,  and  then, 
with  a  gesture  of  relish,  raised  it  to  an  unseen 
mouth. 

"Enny  news  'round  the  mill,  Amos?"  de- 
manded his  invisible  pot  companion. 

"  None  ez  I  knows  on,"  drawled  Amos. 

"  Grind  some  fur  we-uns  ter-morrer?  "  asked 
Ab. 

"  I  '11  grind  yer  bones,  ef  ye  '11  send  'em  down," 
said  Amos,  accommodatingly.  "  All 's  grist  ez 
goes  ter  the  hopper.  How  kem  you-uns  ter  git 
the  nightmare  'bout'n  the  raiders  ?  I  waited  fur 
Sol  an'  the  corn  right  sharp  time  Wednesday 
mornin';  jes'  hed  nuthin'  ter  do  but  ter  sot  an' 
suck  my  paws,  like  a  b'ar  in  winter,  till 't  war 
time  ter  put  out  an'  go  ter  the  gaynder-pullin '." 

"  Waal "  —  there  was  embarrassment  in  the 


GREAT  SMOKY  MOUNTAINS.  153 

tones  of  the  burly  shadow,  and  all  the  echoes 
were  hesitant  as  Groundhog  Cayce  replied  in 
Ab's  stead  :  "  Mirandy  Jane  'lowed  ez  she  hed 
seen  a  strange  man  'bout'n  the  spring,  an' 
thought  it  war  a  raider,  —  though  he'd  hev 
been  in  a  mighty  ticklish  place  fur  a  raider,  all 
by  himself.  Mirandy  Jane  hev  fairly  got  the 
jim-jams,  seein'  raiders  stiddier  snakes  ;  we-uns 
can't  put  no  dependence  in  the  gal.  An'  mam, 
she  drempt  the  raiders  hed  camped  on  Chil- 
howee  Mounting.  An'  D'rindy,  she  turned 
fool :  fust  she  'lowed  ez  we-uns  would  all  be 
ruined  ef  we  went  ter  the  gaynder-pullin',  an' 
then  she  war  powerful  interrupted  when  we 
'lowed  we  would  n't  go,  like  ez  ef  she  wanted 
us  ter  go  most  awful.  I  axed  this  hyar  Pa'son 
Kelsey,  ez  rid  by  that  mornjn',  ef  he  treed  enny 
raiders  in  his  mind.  An'  he  'lowed,  none,  'cept- 
in'  the  devil  a-raidin'  'roun'  his  own  soul.  But 
'mongst  'em  we-uns  jest  bided  away  that  day. 
J  would  n't  hev  done  it,  'ceptin'  D'rindy  tuk  ter 
talkin'  six  ways  fur  Sunday,  an'  she  got  me 
plumb  catawampus,  so  ez  I  did  n't  rightly  know 
what  I  wanted  ter  do  myself." 

It  was  a  lame  story  for  old  Groundhog  Cayce 
to  tell.  Even  the  hesitating  echoes  seemed 
ashamed  of  it.  Mirandy  Jane's  mythical  raider, 
and  mam's  dream,  and  D'rindy's  folly,  —  were 
these  to  baffle  that  stout-hearted  old  soldier? 


154  THE  PROPHET  OF  THE 

Amos  James  said  no  more.  If  old  Cayce  em- 
ployed an  awkward  subterfuge  to  conceal  the 
enterprise  of  the  rescue,  he  had  no  occasion  to 
intermeddle.  Somehow,  the  strengthening  of 
his  suspicions  brought  Amos  to  a  new  realiza- 
tion of  his  despair.  He  sought  to  modify  it  by 
*  frequent  reference  to  the  jug,  which  came  his 
way  at  hospitably  short  intervals.  But  he  had 
a  strong  head,  and  had  seen  the  jug  often  before ; 
and  although  he  thought  his  grief  would  be 
alleviated  by  getting  as  drunk  as  a  "  f  raish  b'iled 
oweZ,"  that  consummation  of  consolation  was 
coy  and  tardy.  He  was  only  mournfully  frisky 
after  a  while,  feeling  that  he  should  presently 
be  obliged  to  cut  his  throat,  yet  laughing  at 
his  own  jokes  when  the  moonshiners  laughed, 
then  pausing  in  sudden  seriousness  to  listen  to 
the  elfin  merriment  evoked  among  the  lurking 
echoes.  And  he  sang,  too,  after  a  time,  a  merry 
catch,  in  a  rich  and  resonant  voice,  with  long, 
dawdling,  untutored  cadences  and  distortions  of 
effect,  —  sudden  changes  of  register,  many  an 
abrupt  crescendo  and  diminuendo,  and  "spoken" 
interpolations  and  improvisations,  all  of  humor- 
ous intent. 

The  others  listened  with  the  universal  greedy 
appetite  for  entertainment  which  might  have 
been  supposed  to  have  dwindled  and  died  of 
inanition  in  their  serious  and  deprived  lives. 


GREAT  SMOKY  MOUNTAINS.  155 

Pete  Cayce  first  revolted  from  the  strain  on 
his  attention,  subordination,  and  acquiescence. 
It  was  not  his  habit  to  allow  any  man  to  so 
completely  absorb  public  attention. 

"  Look-a-hyar,  Amos,  fur  Gawd's  sake,  shet 
up  that  thar  foolishness !  "  he  stuttered  at  last. 
"Thar's  n-no  tellin'  how  f-f-fur  yer  survigrus 
bellerin'  kin  be  hearn.  An'  besides,  ye '11 
b-b-bring  the  rocks  down  on  to  we-uns  d-d'rectly. 
They  tell  me  that  it  air  dangerous  ter  f-f-f-fire 
pistols  an'  jounce  'round  in  a  cave.  Bring  the 
roof  down." 

"  That  air  jes'  what  I  'm  a-aimin'  ter  do, 
Pete,"  said  Amos,  with  his  comical  gravity. 
"  I  went  ter  meetin'  week  'fore  las',  an'  the 
pa'son  read  'bout  Samson ;  an'  it  streck  my 
ambition,  an'  I  'm  jes'  a-honin'  ter  pull  the  roof 
down  on  the  Philistine." 

"  Look  -  a  -  hyar,  Amos  Jeemes,  ye  air  the 
b-b-banged-est  critter  on  this  hyar  m-mounting ! 
Jes'  kem  hyar  ter  our  s-still  an'  c-c-call  me  a 
Ph-Ph-Philistine ! " 

The  jug  had  not  been  stationary,  and  as  Pete 
thrust  his  aggressive  face  forward  the  vivid 
quivering  line  of  light  from  the  furnace  showed 
that  it  was  flushed  with  liquor  and  that  his  eyes 
were  bloodshot.  His  gaunt  head,  with  long, 
colorless  hair,  protruding  teeth,  and  homely, 
prominent  features,  as  it  hung  there  in  the  iso- 


156  THE  PROP'HET  OF  THE 

lating  effect  of  that  sharp  and  slender  gleam, — . 
the  rest  of  his  body  canceled  by  the  darkness,  — • 
had  a  singularly  unnatural  and  sinister  aspect. 
The  light  glanced  back  with  a  steely  glimmer. 
The  drunken  man  had  a  knife  in  his  hand. 

"  Storp  it,  now,"  his  younger  brother  drawl- 
ingly  admonished  him.  "  Who  be  ye  a-goin' 
ter  cut  ?  " 

"  Call  m-m-me  a  Philistine !  I  '11  bust  his 
brains  out !  "  asseverated  Pete. 

"  Ye  're  drunk,  Pete,"  said  old  Grounhog 
Cayce,  in  an  explanatory  manner.  There  was 
no  move  to  defend  the  threatened  guest.  Per- 
haps Amos  James  was  supposed  to  be  able  to 
take  care  of  himself. 

"  Call  me  a  Ph-Philistine  —  a  Philistine  ! " 
exclaimed  Pete,  steadying  himself  on  the  keg 
on  which  he  sat,  and  peering  with  wide,  light 
eyes  into  the  darkness,  as  if  to  mark  the  where- 
abouts of  the  enemy  before  dealing  the  blow. 
"Jes'  got  insurance  —  c-c-c-call  me  a  Philis- 
tine!" 

"  Shet  up,  Pete.  I  '11  take  it  back,"  said 
Amos,  gravely.  "  /  'm  the  Philistine  myself  ; 
fur  pa'son  read  ez  Samson  killed  a  passel  o' 
Philistines  with  the  jawbone  of  an  ass,  an'  ez 
long  ez  ye  be  talkin'  I  feel  in  an'  about  dead." 

Amos  James  had  bent  close  attention  to  the 
sermon,  and  had  brought  as  much  accurate  in- 


GREAT  SMOKY  MOUNTAINS.  157 

formation  from  meeting  as  was  consistent  with 
hearing  so  sensational  a  story  as  Samson's  for 
the  first  time.  In  the  mountains  men  do  not 
regard  church  privileges  as  the  opportunity  of 
a  quiet  hour  to  meditate  on  secular  affairs,  while 
a  gentle  voice  drones  on  antiquated  themes. 
To  Amos,  Samson  was  the  latest  thing  out. 

Pete  did  not  quite  catch  the  full  meaning  of 
this  sarcasm.  He  was  content  that  Amos  should 
seem  to  recant.  He  replaced  his  knife,  but  sat 
surly  and  muttering,  and  now  and  then  glan- 
cing toward  the  guest. 

Meantime  that  vivid  white  gleam  quivered 
across  the  dusky  shadows  ;  now  and  then  the 
horse  pawed,  raising  martial  echoes,  as  of  squad- 
rons of  cavalry,  among  the  multitudinous  rever- 
berations of  the  place,  while  his  stall-compan- 
ion, that  the  light  could  conjure  up,  was  always 
noiseless ;  the  continuous  fresh  sound  of  water 
gurgling  over  the  rocks  mingled  with  the  mo- 
notonous drip  from  the  worm ;  occasionally  a 
gopher  would  scud  among  the  heavily  booted 
feet,  and  the  jug's  activity  was  marked  by  the 
shifting  for  an  interval  of  the  red  sparks  which 
indicated  the  glowing  pipes  of  the  burly  shad- 
ows around  the  still. 

The  stories  went  on,  growing  weird  as  the 
evening  outside  waned,  in  some  unconscious 
sympathy  with  the  melancholy  hour,  —  for  in 


158  THE  PROPHET  OF  THE 

these  sunless  depths  one  knew  nor  day  nor 
night,  —  stories  of  bloody  vendettas,  and  head- 
less ghosts,  and  strange  previsions,  and  unnamed 
terrors.  And  Amos  James  recounted  the  fable 
of  a  mountain  witch,  interspersed  with  a  wild 
vocal  refrain:  — 


§._f/..^ 
m 


Cu-vo!    Cu-vo!    Kil-dar!    Kil-dar!    Kil-dar! 

Thus  she  called  her  hungry  dogs,  that  fed  on 
human  flesh,  while  the  winds  were  awhirl,  and 
the  waning  moon  was  red,  and  the  Big  Smoky 
lay  in  densest  gloom. 

The  white  line  of  light  had  yellowed,  deep- 
ened, grown  dull.  The  furnace  needed  fuel. 
Ab  suddenly  leaned  down  and  threw  open  the 
door.  The  flare  of  the  pulsing  coals  resuscitated 
the  dim  scene  and  the  long,  dun-colored  shad- 
ows. Here  in  the  broad  red  light  were  the 
stolid,  meditative  faces  of  the  distillers,  each 
with  his  pipe  in  his  mouth  and  his  hat  on  his 
head;  it  revealed  the  dilated  eye  and  uncon- 
sciously dramatic  gesture  of  the  story-teller, 
sitting  upon  a  barrel  in  their  midst ;  the  horse 
was  distinct  in  the  background,  now  dreaming 
and  now  lifting  an  impatient  fore-foot,  and  his 
gigantic  stall-mate,  the  simulacrum  of  the  mas- 
todon, moved  as  he  moved,  but  softly,  that  the 


GREAT  SMOKY  MOUNTAINS.  159 

echoes  might  not  know,  —  the  immortal  echoes, 
who  were  here  before  him,  and  here  still. 

And  behind  all  were  the  great  walls  of  the 
vault,  with  its  vague  apertures  leading  to  unex- 
plored recesses;  with  many  jagged  ledges,  de- 
voted to  shelf-like  usage,  and  showing  here  a 
jug,  and  here  a  shot-pouch,  and  here  a  rat  — 
fat  and  sleek,  thanks  to  the  plenteous  waste  of 
mash  and  grain  —  looking  down  with  a  glitter- 
ing eye,  and  here  a  bag  of  meal,  and  here  a 
rifle. 

Suddenly  Amos  James  broke  off.  "  Who  's 
that  ?  "  he  exclaimed,  and  all  the  echoes  were 
sharply  interrogative. 

There  was  a  galvanic  start  among  the  moon- 
shiners. They  looked  hastily  about,  —  perhaps 
for  the  witch,  perhaps  for  the  frightful  dogs, 
perhaps  expecting  the  materialization  of  Mi- 
randy  Jane's  raider. 

Arnos  had  turned  half  round,  and  was  star- 
ing intently  beyond  the  still.  The  man  lying 
on  the  ground  had  shifted  his  position  ;  his  soft 
brown  hat  was  doubled  under  his  head.  The 
red  flare  showed  its  long,  tawny,  tangled  hair, 
of  a  hue  unusual  enough  to  be  an  identification. 
His  stalwart  limbs  were  stretched  out  at  length ; 
the  hands  he  thrust  above  his  head  were  un- 
manacled ;  as  he  moved  there  was  the  jingle  of 
spurs. 


160  THE  PROPHET  OF  THE 

"  Why,  thar  be  Rick  Tyler !  "  exclaimed 
Amos  James. 

"  Hev  ye  jes'  fund  that  out  ?  "  drawled  the 
man  on  the  ground,  with  a  jeering  inflection. 

"  W-w-w-why  n't  ye  lie  low,  Rick  ?  "  demand- 
ed Pete,  aggressively.  "  Ef  ever  thar  war  a 
empty  cymblin',  it' s  yer  head.  Amos  an'  that 
thar  thin-lipped  sneak  ez  called  hisself  a  dep'ty 
air  thick  'n  thieves." 

There  was  no  hesitation  in  Amos  James's 
character.  He  leaned  forward  suddenly,  and 
clutched  Pete  by  the  throat,  and  the  old  man 
and  Solomon  were  fain  to  interfere  actively  to 
prevent  that  doughty  member  of  the  family 
from  being  throttled  on  the  spot.  Pending  the 
interchange  of  these  amenities,  Rick  Tyler  lay 
motionless  on  the  ground  ;  Ab  calmly  continued 
his  task  of  replenishing  the  fire ;  and  Ben  asked, 
in  a  slow  monotone,  the  favor  of  leaving  the 
furnace  door  open  for  a  "  spell,  whilst  I  unkiver 
the  kag  in  the  corner,  an'  fill  the  jug,  an'  kiver 
the  kag  agin,  keerful,  'kase  I  don't  want  no  rat 
in  mine." 

When  Pete,  with  a  scarlet  face  and  starting 
eyes  and  a  throat  full  of  complicated  coughs  and 
gurgles,  was  torn  out  of  the  young  miller's  strong 
hands,  old  Groundhog  Cayce  remonstrated  :  — 

"Lord  A' mighty,  boys!  Can't  ye  set  an' 
drink  yer  liquor  sociable,  'thout  clinchin'  that- 
a-way  ?  What  did  Pete  do  ter  ye,  Amos  ?  " 


.GREAT  SMOKY  MOUNTAINS.  161 

"  Nuthin' ;  he  dassent,"  said  the  panting 
Amos. 

"  Did  he  hurt  yer  feelin's  ?  "  asked  the  old 
man,  with  respectful  sympathy. 

"  Yes,  he  did,"  said  Amos,  admitting  vulnera- 
bility in  that  tender  aesthetic  organ. 

"  Never  none  —  now  —  koo  —  koo  I  "  coughed 
Pete.  "  He  hevgot  no  f-f-f -feelin's,  koo — koo! 
I  hev  hearn  his  own  m-mam  say  so  a-many  a 
time." 

"He  'lowed,"  said  Amos,  his  black  eyes  flash- 
ing indignantly,  his  face  scarlet,  the  perspira- 
tion thick  in  his  black  hair,  "  ez  I  'd  tell  the 
dep'ty  —  kase  he  war  toler'ble  lively  hyar,  an' 
I  got  sorter  friendly  with  him  when  I  hed  ter 
sarve  on  the  posse  —  ez  I  seen  Rick  Tyler  hyar. 
Mebbe  ye  think  I  want  two  hunderd  dollars  — 
hey  !  "  He  made  a  gesture  as  if  to  seize  again 
his  late  antagonist. 

"  A-koo,  koo,  koo !  "  coughed  Pete,  moving 
cautiously  out  of  reach. 

All  the  echoes  clamored  mockingly  with  the 
convulsive  sound,  and  thus  multiplied  they  gave 
a  ludicrous  suggestion  of  the  whooping  cough. 

"  I  dunno,  Mr.  Cayce,"  said  Amos,  with  some 
dignity,  addressing  the  old  man,  "  what  call  ye 
hev  got  ter  consort  with  them  under  indictment 
for  murder,  an'  offenders  agin  the  law.  But 
hevin'  seen  Rick  Tyler  hyar  in  a  friendly  way 
11 


162  THE  PROPHET  OF  THE 

along  o'  you-uns,  he  air  ez  safe  from  me  ez  ef  he 
war  under  my  own  roof." 

Rick  Tyler  drew  himself  up  on  4iis  elbow, 
and  turned  upon  the  speaker  a  face  inflamed  by 
sudden  passion. 

"  Go  tell  the  dep'ty !  "  he  screamed.  "  I  '11 
take  no  faviors  from  ye,  Amos  Jeemes.  Kem 
on  I  Arrest  me  yerse'f !  "  He  rose  to  his  feet, 
and  held  out  his  bruised  and  scarred  hands,  smit- 
ing them  together  as  if  he  were  again  hand- 
cuffed. The  light  fell  full  on  his  clothes,  tattered 
by  his  briery  flight,  the  long  dishevelment  of 
his  yellow  hair,  his  burning  face,  and  the  blaz- 
ing fury  in  his  brown  eyes.  "  Kem  on  !  Arrest 
me  yerse'f,  —  ye  air  ekal  ter  it.  I  kin  better 
bide  the  law  than  ter  take  faviors  from  you-uns. 
Kem  on  !  Arrest  me !  " 

Once  more  he  held  his  free  hands  as  if  for 
the  manacles. 

Their  angry  eyes  met.  Then,  as  Amos  James 
still  sat  silent  and  motionless  on  the  barrel,  Rick 
Tyler  turned,  and  with  a  gesture  of  desperation 
again  flung  himself  on  the  ground. 

There  was  a  pause.  Two  of  the  moonshiners 
were  arranging  to  decant  some  liquor  into  a 
keg,  and  were  lighting  a  tallow  dip  for  the  pur- 
pose. In  the  dense  darkness  of  the  recess  where 
they  stood  it  took  on  a  large  and  lunar  aspect. 
A  rayonnant  circle  hovered  attendant  upon  it ; 


GREAT  SMOKY  MOUNTAINS.  163 

the  shadows  about  it  were  densely  black,  and  in 
the  sharp  and  colorless  contrasts  the  two  bending 
figures  of  the  men  handling  the  keg  stood  out  in 
peculiar  distinctness  of  pose  and  gesture.  The 
glare  of  the  fire  in  the  foreground  deepened  to 
a  dull  orange,  to  a  tawny  red,  even  to  a  dusky 
brown,  in  comparison  with  the  pearly,  luminous 
effect  of  the  candle.  The  tallow  dip  was  extin- 
guished when  the  task  was  complete.  Pres- 
ently the  furnace  door  clashed,  the  group  of  dis- 
tillers disappeared  as  with  a  bound,  and  that 
long,  livid  line  of  pulsating  light  emitted  by  the 
ill-fitting  door  cleft  the  gloom  like  a  glittering 
blade. 

"  I  s'pose  ye  don't  mean  ter  be  sassy  in  'spe- 
cial, Amos,  faultin'  yer  elders,  talkin'  'bout 
consortin'  with  them  under  indictment,"  said 
old  Groundhog  Cayce's  voice.  "  But  I  dunno  ez 
ye  hev  enny  call  ter  sot  yerse'f  up  in  jedgmint 
on  my  actions." 

"  Waal/'  said  Amos,  apologetic,  "  I  never 
went  ter  say  nuthin'  like  faultin'  nohow.  Sech 
ez  yer  actions  I  leaves  ter  you-uns." 

"  Ye  mought  ez  well,"  said  the  elder,  uncon- 
sciously satiric.  "  The  Bible  'lows  ez  every  man 
air  a  law  unto  hisself.  An'  I  hev  fund  I  gits 
peace  mos'ly  in  abidin'  by  the  law  ez  kerns  from 
within.  An'  I  kin  see  no  jestice  in  my  denyin' 
a  rifle  an'  a  lot  o'  lead  an'  powder  ter  a  half- 


164  THE  PROPHET  OF  THE 

starvin'  critter  ter  save  his  life.  Rick  war 
bound  ter  starve,  hid  out,  ef  he  hed  nuthin'  ter 
shoot  deer  an'  wild  varmints  with,  bein'  ez  his 
rifle  war  tuk  by  the  sher'ff.  I  knows  no  law  ez 
lays  on  me  the  starvin'  o'  a  human.  An'  when 
that  boy  kem  a-cropin'  hyar  ter  the  still  this 
evenin',  he  got  ez  fair-spoke  a  welcome,  an'  ez 
much  liquor  ez  he'  d  swaller,  same  ez  enny  comer 
on  the  mounting.  I  dunno  ez  he  air  a  offender 
agin  the  law,  an'  't  ain't  my  say-so.  I  ain't  a 
jedge,  an'  thar  ain't  enough  o'  me  fur  a  jury." 

This  lucid  discourse,  its  emphasis  doubled  by 
the  iterative  echoes,  had  much  slow,  imper- 
sonal effect  as  it  issued  from  the  darkness.  It 
was  to  Amos  James,  accustomed  to  rural  logic, 
as  if  reason,  pure  and  simple,  had  spoken.  His 
heart  had  its  own  passionate  protest.  Not  that 
he  disapproved  the  loan  of  the  rifle,  but  he  dis- 
trusted the  impulse  which  prompted  it.  To 
find  the  hunted  fugitive  here  among  the  dis- 
tillers added  the  force  of  conviction  to  his  sus- 
picions of  a  rescue  and  its  instigation. 

The  personal  interest  which  he  had  in  all 
this  annulled  for  a  moment  his  sense  of  the  be- 
coming, and  defied  the  constraints  of  etiquette. 

"  How  'd  Rick  Tyler  say  he  got  away  from 
the  sher'ff,  ennyhow  ?  "  he  demanded,  bluntly. 

"  He  war  n't  axed,"  said  old  Groundhog 
Cayce,  quietly. 


GREAT  SMOKY  MOUNTAINS*  165 

A  silence  ensued,  charged  with  all  the  rigors 
of  reproof. 

"  An'  I  dunno  ez  ye  hev  enny  call  ter  know, 
Amos  Jeemes,"  cried  out  Rick,  still  prone  upon 
the  ground.  "  That  won't  holp  the  sher'ff  none 
now.  Ye  'd  better  be  study  in'  'bout  settin'  him 
on  the  trail  ter  ketch  me  agin." 

The  line  of  light  from  the  rift  in  the  furnace 
door  showed  a  yellow  gleam  in  the  blackness 
where  his  head  lay.  Amos  James  fixed  a 
burning  eye  upon  it. 

"  I  '11  kem  thar  d'rec'ly  an'  tromp  the  life  out'n 
ye,  Rick  Tyler.  I  '11  grind  yer  skull  ter  pieces 
with  my  boot-heel,  like  ez  ef  ye  war  a  copper- 
head." 

"  Laws-a-massy,  boys,  sech  a  quar'lin',  fightin' 
batch  ez  ye  be !  I  fairly  gits  gagged  with  my 
liquor  a-listenin'  ter  ye,  —  f urgits  how  ter  swal- 
ler,"  said  Groundhog  Cayce,  suddenly  fretful. 

"  Leave  Rick  be,  Amos  Jeemes,"  he  added, 
in  an  authoritative  tone.  And  then,  with  a  slant 
of  his  head  toward  Rick  Tyler,  lying  on  the 
ground,  "  Hold  yer  jaw  down  thar !  " 

And  the  two  young  men  lapsed  into  silence. 

The  spring,  rising  among  the  barren  rocks, 
chanted  aloud  its  prescient  sylvan  song  of  the 
woodland  ways,  and  the  glancing  beam,  and  the 
springing  trout,  and  the  dream  of  the  drifting 
leaf,  as  true  of  tone  and  as  delicately  keyed  to 


166  THE  PROPHET  OF  THE 

the  dryadic  chorus  in  the  forest  without  as  if 
the  waters  that  knew  but  darkness  and  the 
cavernous  sterilities  were  already  in  the  liber- 
ated joys  of  the  gorge  yonder,  reflecting  the  sky, 
wantoning  with  the  wind,  and  swirling  down 
the  mountain  side.  The  spirits  dripped  from 
the  worm,  the  furnace  roared,  the  men's  feet 
grated  upon  the  rocks  as  they  now  and  then 
shifted  their  position. 

"  Waal,"  said  Amos  at  last,  rising,  "  I  'd  better 
be  a-goin'.  Tears  like  ez  I  hev  wore  out  my 
welcome  hyar." 

He  stood  looking  at  the  line  of  light,  remem- 
bering desolately  Dorinda's  buoyant,  trium- 
phant mood.  Its  embellishment  of  her  beauty 
had  smitten  him  with  an  afflicted  sense  of  her 
withdrawal  from  all  the  prospects  of  his  future. 
He  had  thought  that  he  had  given  up  hope,  but 
he  began  to  appreciate,  when  he  found  Rick 
Tyler  in  intimate  refuge  with  her  kindred,  how 
sturdy  an  organism  was  that  heart  of  his,  and 
to  realize  that  to  reduce  it  to  despair  must  needs 
cost  many  a  throe. 

"  I  hev  wore  out  my  welcome,  I  reckon,"  he 
repeated,  dismally. 

"  I  dunno  what  ails  ye  ter  say  that.  Ye  hev 
jes'  got  tired  o'  comin'  hyar,  I  reckon,"  said  old 
man  Cayce.  "  Wore  out  yer  welcome,  — « 
shucks  I " 


GREAT  SMOKY  MOUNTAINS.  167 

"  Mighty  nigh  wore  me  out,"  said  Pete,  re- 
membering to  cough. 

"  Waal,"  said  Amos,  slightly  salved  by  the 
protestations  of  his  host,  "  I  reckon  it  air  time 
I  war  a-puttin'  out,  ennyhow.  Jes'  set  that 
thar  furnace  door  on  the  jar,  Pete,  so  I  kin  see 
ter  lay  a-holt  o*  the  beastis." 

The  door  opened,  the  red  glow  flared  out,  the 
figures  of  the  moonshiners  all  reappeared  in  a 
semicircle  about  the  still,  and  as  Amos  James 
took  the  horse's  bridle  and  led  him  away  from 
the  wall  the  mastodon  vanished,  with  noiseless 
tread,  into  the  dim  distance  of  the  unmeasured 


The  horse's  hoofs  reverberated  down  the  cav- 
ernous depths,  echoed,  reechoed,  multiplied  in- 
definitely. Even  after  the  animal  had  been  led 
through  the  tortuous  windings  of  the  passage 
his  tramp  resounded  through  the  gloom. 


168  THE  PROPHET  OF  THE 


X. 

THE  displeasure  of  his  fellows  is  a  slight 
and  ephemeral  matter  to  a  man  whose  mind  is 
fixed  on  a  great  essential  question,  charged  with 
moral  gravity  and  imperishable  consequence; 
whose  physical  courage  is  the  instinct  of  his  na- 
ture, conserved  by  its  active  exercise  in  a  life 
of  physical  hardship. 

Kelsey  had  forgotten  the  gander-pulling,  the 
impending  election,  the  excitement  of  the  es- 
cape, before  he  had  ridden  five  miles  from  the 
Settlement.  He  jogged  along  the  valley  road, 
the  reins  on  the  horse's  neck,  his  eyes  lifted  to 
the  heights.  The  fullness  of  day  was  on  their 
unpeopled  summits.  Infinity  was  expressed  be- 
fore the  eye.  On  and  on  the  chain  of  moun- 
tains stretched,  with  every  illusion  of  mist  and 
color,  with  every  differing  grace  of  distance, 
with  inconceivable  measures  of  vastness.  The 
grave  delight  in  which  their  presence  steeped 
the  senses  stirred  his  heart.  They  breathed 
solemnities.  They  lent  wings  to  the  thoughts. 
They  lifted  the  soul.  Could  he  look  at  them 
and  doubt  that  one  day  he  should  see  God  ? 
He  had  been  near,  —  oh,  surely,  He  had  been 
near. 


GREAT  SMOKY  MOUNTAINS.  169 

Kelsey  was  comforted  as  lie  rode  on.  Some- 
how, the  mountains  had  for  his  ignorant  mind 
some  coercive  internal  evidence  of  the  great 
truths.  In  their  exalted  suggestiveness  were 
congruities :  so  far  from  the  world  were  they,  — 
so  high  above  it ;  so  interlinked  with  the  history 
of  all  that  makes  the  races  of  men  more  than 
the  beasts  that  perish,  that  conserves  the  values 
of  that  noble  idea,  —  an  immortal  soul.  On  a 
mountain  the  ark  rested ;  on  a  mountain  the 
cross  was  planted;  the  steeps  beheld  the  glories 
of  the  transfiguration ;  the  lofty  solitudes  heard 
the  prayers  of  the  Christ ;  and  from  the  heights 
issued  the  great  sermon  instinct  with  all  the 
moralities  of  every  creed.  How  often  He  went 
up  into  the  mountain  ! 

The  thought  uplifted  Kelsey.  The  flush  of 
strong  feeling  touched  his  cheek.  His  eyes 
were  fired  with  that  sudden  gleam  of  enthusi- 
asm as  remote  from  earthly  impulses  as  the 
lightnings  of  Sinai. 

"  An'  I  will  preach  his  name  I  "  the  parson 
exclaimed,  in  a  tense  and  thrilling  voice.  He 
checked  his  horse,  drew  out  of  his  pocket  a 
thumbed  old  Bible,  clumsily  turned  the  leaves 
and  sought  for  his  text. 

No  other  book  had  he  ever  read  :  only  that 
sublime  epic,  with  its  deep  tendernesses  and  its 
mighty  portents ;  with  its  subtleties  of  prophecy 


170  THE  PROPHET  OF  THE 

in  wide  and  splendid  phrase,  and  their  fulfill- 
ment in  the  barren  record  of  the  simplest  life ; 
with  all  the  throbbing  presentment  of  martyr- 
dom and  doom  and  death,  dominated  by  the 
miracle  of  resurrection  and  the  potency  of 
divinity.  Every  detail  was  as  clearly  pictured 
to  his  mind  as  if,  instead  of  the  vast,  unstoried 
stretches  of  the  Great  Smoky  Mountains,  he 
looked  upon  the  sanctities  of  the  hills  of  Judsea. 

He  read  as  he  rode  along,  — slowly,  slowly. 
A  bird's  shadow  would  flit  across  the  holy  page, 
and  then  away  to  the  mountain ;  the  winds  of 
heaven  caressed  it.  Sometimes  the  pollen  of 
flowering  weeds  fell  upon  it ;  for  in  the  midst  of 
the  unfrequented  road  they  often  stood  in  tall 
rank  rows,  with  a  narrow  path  on  either  side, 
trodden  by  the  oxen  of  the  occasional  team, 
while  the  growth  bent  elastically  under  the 
passing  bed  of  the  wagon. 

He  was  almost  happy.  The  clamors  of  his 
insistent  heart  were  still.  His  conscience,  his 
memory,  his  self-reproach,  had  loosed  their  hold. 
His  keen  and  subtile  native  intellect  stretched 
its  unconscious  powers,  and  discriminated  the 
workings  of  character,  and  reviewed  the  deploy- 
ing of  events,  and  measured  results.  He  was 
far  away,  walking  with  the  disciples. 

Suddenly,  like  an  aerolite,  he  was  whirled 
from  high  ethereal  spaces  by  the  attraction  of 


GREAT  SMOKY  MOUNTAINS.  171 

the  earth.  A  man  was  peering  from  between 
the  rails  of  a  fence  by  the  wayside. 

"  Kin  ye  read  yer  book,  pa'son,  an'  ride  yer 
beastis  all  ter  wunst?"  he  cried  out,  with  the 
fervor  of  admiration. 

That  tree  of  knowledge,  —  ah,  the  wily  ser- 
pent! Galilee,  —  it  was  thousands  of  miles 
away  across  the  deep  salt  seas. 

The  parson  closed  his  book  with  a  smile  of 
exultation. 

"  The  beast  don't  bender  me  none.  I  kin  read 
ennywhar,"  he  said,  proud  of  the  attainment. 

"  Waal,  sir !  "  exclaimed  the  other,  one  of  that 
class,  too  numerous  in  Tennessee,  who  can 
neither  read  nor  write.  "  Air  it  the  Good 
Book  ?  "  he  demanded,  with  a  sudden  thought. 

"It  air  the  Holy  Bible,"  said  the  parson, 
handing  him  the  book. 

The  man  eyed  it  with  reverence.  Then, 
with  a  gingerly  gesture,  he  gave  it  back.  The 
parson  was  looking  down  at  him,  all  softened 
and  humanized  by  this  unconscious  flattery. 

"  Waal,  pa'son,"  said  the  illiterate  admirer  of 
knowledge,  with  a  respectful  and  subordinate 
air,  "  I  hearn  ez  ye  war  a-goin'  ter  hold  fo'th 
up  yander  at  the  meet'n-house  at  the  Notch 
nex'  Sunday.  Air  that  a  true  word  ?  " 

"  I  'lows  ter  preach  thar  on  the  nex'  Lord's 
day,"  replied  the  parson. 


172  THE  PROPHET  OF  THE 

"  Then,"  with  the  promptness  of  a  sudden 
resolution,  "  I  'm  a-goin'  ter  take  the  old  woman 
an'  the  chillen  an'  wagon  up  the  Big  Smoky  ter 
hear  the  sermon.  I  'low  ez  a  man  what  kin  ride 
a  beastis  an'  read  a  book  all  ter  wunst  mus'  be 
a  powerful  exhorter,  an'  mebbe  ye  '11  lead  us  all 
ter  grace." 

The  parson  said  he  would  be  glad  to  see  the 
family  at  the  meeting-house,  and  presently 
jogged  off  down  the  road. 

One  might  regard  the  satisfaction  of  this 
simple  scene  as  the  due  meed  of  his  labors  ;  one 
might  account  his  pride  in  his  attainments  as  a 
harmless  human  weakness.  There  have  been 
those  of  his  calling,  proud,  too,  of  a  finite  knowl- 
edge, and  fain  to  conserve  fame,  whose  con- 
science makes  no  moan,  —  who  care  naught  for 
humility,  and  hardly  hope  to  be  genuine. 

The  flush  of  pleasure  passed  in  a  moment. 
His  face  hardened.  That  fire  of  a  sublimated 
anger  or  frenzy  touched  his  eyes.  He  remem- 
bered Peter,  the  impetuous,  and  Thomas,  the 
doubter,  and  the  warm  generosities  of  the  heart 
of  him  whom  Jesus  loved,  and  he  "  reckoned  " 
that  they  would  not  have  left  Him  standing  in 
the  road  for  the  joy  of  hearing  their  learning 
praised.  He  rebuked  himself  as  caring  less  for 
the  Holy  Book  than  that  his  craft  could  read 
it.  His  terrible  insight  into  motives  was  not 


GREAT  SMOKY  MOUNTAINS.  173 

dulled  by  a  personal  application.  Introverted 
upon  his  own  heart,  it  was  keen,  unsparing,  in- 
sidiously subtle.  He  saw  his  pride  as  if  it  had 
been  another  man's,  except  that  it  had  no  lenient 
mediator;  for  he  was  just  to  other  men,  even 
gentle.  He  took  pitiless  heed  of  the  pettiness 
of  his  vanity  ;  he  detected  pleasure  that  the 
man  by  the  wayside  should  come,  not  for  salva- 
tion, but  to  hear  the  powerful  exhorter  speak. 
He  saw  the  instability  of  his  high  mood,  of  the 
gracious  rea waking  of  faith;  he  realized  the 
lapse  from  the  heights  of  an  ecstasy  at  the 
lightest  touch  of  temptation. 

"The  Lord  lifts  me  up,"  he  said,  "  ter  dash 
me  ,on  the  groun' !  " 

No  more  in  Judsea,  in  the  holy  mountains ; 
no  more  among  the  disciples.  Drearily  along 
the  valley  road,  glaring  and  yellow  in  the  sun, 
the  book  closed,  the  inspiration  fled,  journeyed 
the  ignorant  man,  who  would  fain  lay  hold  on  a 
true  and  perfected  sanctity. 

He  dispatched  his  errand  in  the  valley,  —  a 
secular  matter,  relating  to  the  exchange  of  a 
cow  and  a  calf.  The  afternoon  was  waning 
when  he  was  again  upon  the  slopes  of  the  Big 
Smoky  ;  for  the  roads  were  rough,  and  he  had 
traveled  slowly,  always  prone  to  "favor  thej 
beastis."  He  stopped  in  front  of  Cayce's  house, 
where  he  saw  Dorinda  spinning  on  the  porch, 


174  TEE  PROPHET  OF  THE 

and  preferred  a  request  for  a  gourd  of  water. 
The  old  woman  heard  his  voice,  and  came  has- 
tily out  with  hospitable  insistence  that  he  should 
dismount  and  "  rest  his  bones,  sence  he  hed  rid 
fur,  an'  tell  the  news  from  the  Settlemint." 
There  was  a  cordial  contrast  between  this  warm 
esteem  and  his  own  unkind  thoughts,  and  he 
suffered  himself  to  be  persuaded.  He  sat  under 
the  hop-vines,  and  replied  in  monosyllables  to 
the  old  woman's  animated  questions,  and  gave 
little  news  of  the  excitements  at  the  Settlement 
which  they  had  not  already  heard.  Dorinda, 
her  wheel  awhirl,  one  hand  lifted  holding  the 
thread,  the  other  poised  in  the  air  to  control 
the  motion,  her  figure  thrown  back  in  a  fine, 
alert  pose,  looked  at  him  with  a  freshened  pity 
for  his  downcast  spirit,  and  with  intuitive  sym- 
pathy. He  sorrowed  not  because  of  the  things 
of  this  world,  she  felt.  It  was  some  high  and 
spiritual  grief,  such  as  might  pierce  a  prophet's 
heart.  Her  eyes,  full  of  the  ideality  of  the  sen- 
timent, dwelt  upon  him  reverently. 

He  marked  the  look.  With  his  overwhelm- 
ing sense  of  his  sins,  he  was  abased  under  it,  and 
he  scourged  himself  as  a  hypocrite. 

"  Thar  air  goin'  ter  be  preachin'  at  the  meet- 
in'-house  Sunday,  I  hearn,"  she  observed  pres- 
ently, thinking  this  topic  more  meet  for  his 
discussion  than  .the  "  gaynder-pullin'  "  and  the 


GREAT  SMOKY  MOUNTAINS.  175 

escape,  and  such  mundane  matters.  The  tem- 
pered green  light  fell  upon  her  fair  face,  adding 
a  delicacy  to  its  creamy  tint;  her  black  hair 
caught  a  shifting  golden  flake  of  sunshine  as 
she  moved  back  and  forth ;  her  red  lips  were 
slightly  parted.  The  grasshoppers  droned  in 
the  leaves  an  accompaniment  to  the  whir  of  her 
wheel.  The  "  prince's  feathers "  bloomed  in 
great  clumsy  crimson  tufts  close  by  the  step. 
Mirandy  Jane,  seated  on  an  inverted  noggin, 
listened  tamely  to  the  conversation,  her  wild, 
uncertain  eyes  fixed  upon  the  parson's  face ;  she 
dropped  them,  and  turned  her  head  with  a  shy- 
ing gesture,  if  by  chance  his  glance  fell  upon 
her. 

From  this  shadowed,  leafy  recess  the  world 
seen  through  the  green  hop-vines  was  all  in  a 
great  yellow  glare. 

"Be  you-uns  a-goin'  ter  hold  fo'th,"  de- 
manded the  old  woman,  "or  Brother  Jake 
Tobin?" 

"It  air  me  ez  air  a-goin'  ter  preach,"  he 
said. 

"  Then  I  'm  a-comin',' '  she  declared,  promptly. 
"  It  do  me  good  ter  hear  you-uns  fairly  make 
the  sinners  spin.  Sech  a  gift  o'  speech  ye  hev 
got !  I  fairly  see  hell  when  ye  talk  o'  thar  doom. 
I  see  wrath  an'  I  smell  brimstone.  Lord  be 
thanked,  I  hev  fund  peace !  An'  I  'm  jes' 


176  THE  PROPHET  OF  THE 

a-waitin'  fur  the  good  day  ter  come  when  the 
Lord  '11  rescue  rne  from  yearth  !  "  She  threw 
herself  back  in  her  chair,  closing  her  eyes  in  a 
sort  of  ecstasy,  and  beating  her  hands  on  her 
knees,  her  feet  tapping  in  rhythm. 

"Though  ef  ye  '11  b'lieve  me,"  she  added,  sit- 
ting up  straight  with  an  appalling  suddenness, 
and  opening  her  eyes,  "  D'rindy  thar  ain't  con- 
victed yit.  Oh,  child,"  in  an  enthused  tone  of 
reproof,  "  time  is  short,  —  time  is  short !  " 

"  Waal,"  said  Dorinda,  speaking  more  quickly 
than  usual,  and  holding  up  her  hand  to  stop 
the  wheel,  "I  hev  hed  no  chance  sca'cely  ter 
think  on  salvation,  bein'  ez  the  weavin'  war 
hendered  some  —  an' " —  She  paused  in  em- 
barrassment. 

"  That  air  a  awful  word  ter  say,  —  puttin' 
the  Lord  ter  wait !  Why  n't  ye  speak  the 
truth  ter  her,  pa' son  ?  Fix  her  sins  on  her." 

"Sometimes,"  said  the  parson,  abruptly,  look- 
ing at  her  as  if  he  saw  more  or  less  than  was 
before  him,  "  I  dunno  ef  I  hev  enny  call  ter  say 
a  word.  I  hev  preached  ter  others,  an'  I  'm  like 
ter  be  a  castaway  myself." 

The  old  woman  stared  at  him  in  dumb  as- 
tonishment. But  he  was  rising  to  take  leave, 
- —  a  simple  ceremony.  He  unhitched  the  horse 
at  the  gate,  mounted,  and,  with  a  silent  nod  to 
the  group  on  the  porch,  rode  slowly  away. 


GREAT  SMOKY  MOUNTAINS.  177 

Old  Mrs.  Cayce  followed  him  with  curious 
eyes,  peering  out  in  the  gaps  of  the  hop-vines. 

"  D'rindy,"  she  said,  "  that  thar  Pa'son  Kel- 
sey,  — we-uns  useter  call  him  nuthin'  but  Hi, 
—  he' s  got  suthin'  heavy  on  his  mind.  It  al- 
ways 'peared  ter  me  ez  he  war  a  mighty  cur'ous 
man  ter  take  up  with  religion  an'  sech.  A 
mighty  suddiiit  boy  he  war,  —  ez  good  a  fighter 
ez  a  catamount,  an'  always  'mongst  the  evil,  bold 
men.  Them  he  consorted  with  till  he  gin  his 
child  morphine  by  mistake,  an'  its  mammy 
quine-iron  ;  an'  she  los'  her  senses  arterward,  an' 
flunged  herse'f  off'n  the  bluff.  'Pears  like  ter 
me  ez  them  war  jedgments  on  him,  —  though 
Em'ly  war  n't  much  loss;  ez  triflin'  a  ch'ice  fur 
a  wife  ez  a  man  could  make.  An'  now  he  hev 
got  suthin'  on  his  mind." 

The  girl  said  nothing.  She  stayed  her  wheel 
with  one  hand,  holding  the  thread  with  the 
other,  and  looked  over  her  shoulder  at  the  re- 
ceding figure  riding  slowly  along  the  vista  of 
the  forest-shadowed  road.  Then  she  turned, 
and  fixed  her  lucent,  speculative  eyes  on  her 
grandmother,  who  continued :  "  Calls  hisself 
a  castaway!  Waal,  he  knows  bes',  bein'  a 
prophet  an'  sech.  But  it  air  toler'ble  comical 
talk  fur  a  preacher.  Brother  Jake  Tobin  kin 
hardly  hold  hisself  together,  a-waitin'  fur  his 
sheer  o'  the  joys  o'  the  golden  shore." 

12 


178  TEE  PROPHET  OF  THE 

"Waal,  'pears  like  ter  me,"  said  Mirandy 
Jane,  whose  mind  seemed  never  far  from  the 
culinary  achievements  to  which  she  had  been 
dedicated,  "  ez  Brother  Jake  Tobin  sets  mo' 
store  on  chicken  fixin's  than  on  grace,  an'  he 
fattens  ev'y  year." 

"I  hopes,"  proceeded  the  grandmother,  dis- 
regarding the  interruption,  and  peering  out 
again  at  the  road  where  the  horseman  had  dis- 
appeared, "  ez  Hi  Kelsey  won't  sot  hisself  ter 
prophesyin'  evil  at  the  meetin' ;  'pears  ter  me 
he  ought  ter  be  hendered,  ef  mought  be,  'kase 
the  wrath  he  foresees  mos'ly  kerns  ter  pass,  an' 
I  'm  always  lookin'  ter  see  him  prophesy  the 
raiders,  —  though  he  hev  hed  the  grace  ter  hold 
his  hand  'bout'n  the  still.  An'  I  hopes  he  won't 
hev  nuthin'  ter  say  'bout  it  at  the  meetin'  Sun- 
day." 

The  little  log  meeting-house  at  the  Notch 
stood  high  on  a  rugged  spur  of  the  Great  Smoky. 
Dense  forests  encompassed  it  on  every  hand, 
obscuring  that  familiar  picture  of  mountain  and 
cloud  and  cove.  From  its  rude,  glassless  win- 
dows one  could  look  out  on  no  distant  vista, 
save  perhaps  in  the  visionary  glories  of  heaven 
or  the  climatic  discomforts  of  hell,  according  to 
the  state  of  the  conscience,  or  perchance  the 
liver.  The  sky  was  aloof  and  limited.  The 
laurel  tangled  the  aisles  of  the  woods.  Some* 


GREAT  SMOKY  MOUNTAINS.  179 

times  from  the  hard  benches  a  weary  tow-headed 
brat  might  rejoice  to  mark  in  the  monotony  the 
frisking  of  a  squirrel  on  a  bough  hard  by,  or  a 
woodpecker  solemnly  tapping.  The  acorns 
would  rattle  on  the  roof,  if  the  wind  stirred,  as 
if  in  punctuation  of  the  discourse.  The  pines, 
mustering  strong  among  the  oaks,  joined  their 
mystic  threnody  to  the  sad-voiced  quiring 
within.  The  firs  stretched  down  long,  pendu- 
lous, darkling  boughs,  and  filled  the  air  with 
their  balsamic  fragrance.  Within  the  house 
the  dull  light  fell  over  a  few  rude  benches  and 
a  platform  with  a  chair  and  table,  which  was 
used  as  pulpit.  Shadows  of  many  deep,  rich 
tones  of  brown  lurked  among  the  rafters.  Here 
and  there  a  cobweb,  woven  to  the  consistence 
of  a  fabric,  swung  in  the  air.  The  drone  of  a 
blue-bottle,  fluttering  in  and  out  of  the  window 
in  a  slant  of  sunshine,  might  invade  the  rever- 
ent silence,  as  Brother  Jake  Tobin  turned  the 
leaves  to  read  the  chapter.  Sometimes  there 
would  sound,  too,  a  commotion  among  the  horses 
without,  unharnessed  from  the  wagons  and 
hitched  to  the  trees  ;  then  in  more  than  one  of 
the  solemn  faces  might  be  descried  an  anxious 
perturbation,  —  not  fear  because  of  equine  per- 
versities, but  because  of  the  idiosyncrasies  of 
callow  human  nature  in  the  urchins  left  in 
charge  of  the  teams.  No  one  ventured  to  in- 


180  THE  PROPHET  OF  THE 

vestigate,  however,  and,  with  that  worldly  dis- 
comfort contending  with  the  spiritual  exalta- 
tions they  sought  to  foster,  the  rows  of  religion- 
ists swayed  backward  and  forward  in  rhythm 
to  the  reader's  voice,  rising  and  falling  in  long, 
billowy  sweeps  of  sound,  like  the  ground  swell 
of  ocean  waves. 

It  was  strange,  looking  upon  their  faces,  and 
with  a  knowledge  of  the  limited  phases  of  their 
existence,  their  similarity  of  experience  here, 
where  a  century  might  come  and  go,  working 
no  change  save  that,  like  the  leaves,  they  flut- 
tered awhile  in  the  outer  air  with  the  spurious 
animation  called  life,  and  fell  in  death,  and 
made  way  for  new  bourgeonings  like  unto  them- 
selves, —  strange  to  mark  how  they  differed. 
Here  was  a  man  of  a  stern,  darkly  religious 
conviction,  who  might  either  have  writhed  at 
the  stake  or  stooped  to  kindle  the  flames ;  and 
here  was  an  accountant  soul  that  knew  only 
those  keen  mercantile  motives,  —  the  hope  of 
reward  and  the  fear  of  hell ;  and  here  was  an 
enthusiast's  eye,  touched  by  the  love  of  God ; 
and  here  was  an  unfinished,  hardly  humanized 
face,  that  it  seemed  as  presumptuous  to  claim  as 
the  exponent  of  a  soul  as  the  faces  of  the  stu- 
pid oxen  out-of-doors.  All  were  earnest ;  many 
wore  an  expression  of  excited  interest,  as  the 
details  of  the  chapter  waxed  to  a  climax,  like 


GREAT  SMOKY  MOUNTAINS.  181 

the  tense  stillness  of  a  metropolitan  audience 
before  an  unimagined  coup  de  ih&dtre.  The 
men  all  sat  on  one  side,  chewing  their  quids ; 
the  women  on  the  other,  almost  masked  by  their 
limp  sun-bonnets.  The  ubiquitous  baby  — 
several  of  him  —  was  there,  and  more  than  once 
babbled  aloud  and  cried  out  peevishly.  Only 
one,  becoming  uproarious,  was  made  a  public 
example ;  being  quietly  borne  out  and  deposited 
in  the  ox-wagon,  at  the  mercy  of  the  urchins 
who  presided  over  the  teams,  while  his  mother 
creaked  in  again  on  the  tips  of  deprecating, 
anxious  toes,  to  hear  the  Word. 

Brother  Jake  Tobin  might  be  accounted  in 
some  sort  a  dramatic  reader.  He  was  a  tall, 
burly  man,  inclining  to  fatness,  with  grizzled 
hair  reached  back  from  his  face.  He  cast  his 
light  gray  eyes  upward  at  the  end  of  every 
phrase,  with  a  long,  resonant  "  Ah  \ "  He  smote 
the  table  with  his  hands  at  emphatic  passages ; 
he  rolled  out  denunciatory  clauses  with  a  fresh- 
ened relish  which  intimated  that  he  considered 
one  of  the  choicest  pleasures  of  the  saved  might 
be  to  gloat  over  the  unhappy  predicament  of 
the  damned.  He  chose  for  his  reading  para- 
graphs that,  applied  to  aught  but  spiritual 
enemies  and  personified  sins,  might  make  a 
civilized  man  quake  for  his  dearest  foe.  He 
paused  often  and  interpolated  his  own  observa- 


182  THE  PROPHET  OF  THE 

tions,  standing  a  little  to  the  side  of  the  table, 
and  speaking  in  a  conversational  tone.  "  Ain't 
that  so,  my  brethren  an'  sisters !  But  we  air 
saved  in  the  covenant  —  ah !  "  Then,  clapping 
his  hands  with  an  ecstatic  upward  look,  —  "  I  'm 
so  happy,  I  'm  so  happy  !  "  —  he  would  go  on  to 
read  with  the  unction  of  immediate  intention, 
"  Let  death  seize  them !  Let  them  go  down 
quick  into  hell !  " 

He  wore  a  brown  jeans  suit,  the  vest  much 
creased  in  the  regions  of  his  enhanced  portliness, 
its  maker's  philosophy  not  having  taken  into 
due  account  his  susceptibility  to  "  chicken  fix- 
in's."  After  concluding  the  reading  he  wiped 
the  perspiration  from  his  brow  with  his  red 
bandana  handkerchief,  and  placed  it  around 
the  collar  of  his  unbleached  cotton  shirt,  as  he 
proceeded  to  the  further  exertion  of  "  lining  out " 
the  hymn. 

The  voices  broke  forth  in  those  long,  linger- 
ing cadences  that  have  a  melancholy,  spiritual, 
yearning  effect,  in  which  the  more  tutored 
church  music  utterly  fails.  The  hymn  rose 
with  a  solemn  jubilance,  filling  the  little  house, 
and  surging  out  into  the  woods ;  sounding  far 
across  unseen  chasms  and  gorges,  and  rousing  in 
the  unsentient  crags  an  echo  with  a  testimony 
so  sweet,  charged  with  so  devout  a  sentiment, 
that  it  seemed  as  if  with  this  voice  the  very 


GREAT  SMOKY  MOUNTAINS.  183 

stones  would  have  cried  out,  had  there  been 
dearth  of  human  homage  when  Christ  rode  into 
Jerusalem. 

Then  the  sudden  pause,  the  failing  echo,  the 
sylvan  stillness,  and  the  chanting  voice  lined  out 
another  couplet.  It  was  well,  perhaps,  that 
this  part  of  the  service  was  so  long ;  the  soul 
might  rest  on  its  solemnity,  might  rise  on  its 
aspiration. 

It  came  to  an  end  at  last.  Another  long 
pause  ensued.  Kelsey,  sitting  on  the  opposite 
side  of  the  table,  his  elbow  on  the  back  of  his 
chair,  his  hand  shading  his  eyes,  made  no  move- 
ment. Brother  Jake  Tobin  looked  hard  at  him, 
with  an  expression  which  in  a  worldly  man  we 
should  pronounce  exasperation.  He  hesitated 
for  a  moment  in  perplexity.  There  was  a  faint 
commotion,  implying  suppressed  excitement  in 
the  congregation.  Parson  Kelsey's  idiosyncra- 
sies were  known  by  more  than  one  to  be  a  thorn 
in  the  side  of  the  frankly  confiding  Brother 
Jake  Tobin. 

"  Whenst  I  hev  got  him  in  the  -pulpit  along- 
side o'  me,"  he  would  say  to  his  cronies,  "  I 
feel  ez  onlucky  an'  weighted  ez  ef  I  war  a-lookin' 
over  my  lef  shoulder  at  the  new  moon  on  a  No- 
vember Friday.  I  feel  ez  oncommon  ez  ef  he 
war  a  deer,  or  suthin',  ez  hev  got  no  salvation 
in  him.  An'  ef  he  don't  feel  the  sperit  ter  pray, 


184  THE  PROPHET  OF  THE 

he  won't  pray,  an'  I  hev  got  ter  surroun'  the 
throne  o'  grace  by  myself.  He  kin  pray  ef  he 
hev  a  mind  ter,  an'  he  do  seem  ter  hev  hed  a 
outpourin'  o'  the  sperit  o'  prophecy ;  but  he  hev 
made  me  'pear  mighty  comical  'fore  the  Lord 
a-many  a  time,  when  I  hev  axed  him  ter  open 
his  mouth  an'  he  hev  kep'  it  shut." 

Brother  Jake  did  not  venture  to  address 
him  now.  An  alternative  was  open  to  him. 
"  Brother  Eeuben  Bates,  will  ye  lead  us  in 
prayer  ?  "  he  said  to  one  of  the  congregation. 

They  all  knelt  down,  huddled  like  sheep  in 
the  narrow  spaces  between  the  benches,  and 
from  among  them  went  up  the  voice  of  suppli- 
cation, that  anywhere  and  anyhow  has  the  com- 
manding dignity  of  spiritual  communion,  the 
fervor  of  exaltation,  and  all  the  moving  hu- 
mility of  the  finite  leaning  upon  the  infinite. 
Ignorance  was  annihilated,  so  far  as  Brother 
Reuben  Bates's  prayer  was  concerned.  It 
grasped  the  fact  of  immortality,  —  all  worth 
knowing!  —  and  humble  humanity  was  pre- 
sented as  possessing  the  intimate  inherent  prin- 
ciple of  the  splendid  fruitions  of  eternity. 

He  had  few  words,  Brother  Reuben,  and  the 
aspirated  "  Ah !  "  was  long  drawn  often,  while 
he  swiftly  thought  of  something  else  to  say. 
Brother  Jake  Tobin,  after  the  manner  in  vogue 
among  them,  broke  out  from  time  to  time  with 


GREAT  SMOKY  MOUNTAINS.  185 

a  fervor  of  assent.  "Yes,  my  Master!  "he 
would  exclaim  in  a  wild,  ecstatic  tone.  "  Bless 
the  Lord  !  "  "  That 's  a  true  word  ! "  "I 'm  so 
happy!" 

Always  these  interpolations  came  opportunely 
when  Brother  Reuben  seemed  entangled  in  his 
primitive  rhetoric,  and  gave  him  a  moment  for 
improvisation.  It  was  doubtless  Hi  Kelsey's 
miserable  misfortune  that  his  acute  intuition 
should  detect  in  the  reverend  tones  a  vainglori- 
ous self-satisfaction,  known  to  no  one  else,  not 
even  to  the  speaker  ;  that  he  should  accurately 
gauge  how  Brother  Jake-  Tobin  secretly  piqued 
himself  upon  his  own  gift  in  prayer,  never  hav- 
ing experienced  these  stuttering  halts,  never  hav- 
ing needed  these  pious  boosts  ;  that  he  should 
be  aware,  ignorant  as  he  was,  of  that  duality  of 
cerebration  by  which  Brother  Jake's  mind  was 
divided  between  the  effect  on  God,  bending 
down  a  gracious  ear,  and  the  impression  of  these 
ecstatic  outbursts  on  the  congregation  ;  that  the  J 
petty  contemptibleness  of  it  should  depress  him ; 
that  its  dissimulations  angered  him.  With  the 
rigor  of  an  upright  man,  he  upbraided  himself. 
He  was  on  his  knees :  was  he  praying  ?  Were 
these  the  sincerities  of  faith.  Was  this  luke- 
warm inattention  the  guerdon  of  the  sacrifice  of 
the  cross  ?  His  ideal  and  himself,  himself  and 
what  he  sought  to  be,  —  oh,  the  gulf !  the  deep 
divisions ! 


186  THE  PROPHET  OF  TEE 

He  gave  his  intentions  no  grace.  He  con- 
ceded naught  to  human  nature.  His  conscience 
revolted  at  a  sham.  And  he  was  a  living, 
breathing  sham  —  upon  his  knees. 

Ah,  let  us  have  a  little  mercy  on  ourselves ! 
Most  of  us  do.  For  there  was  Brother  Jake 
Tobin,  with  a  conscience  free  of  offense,  hap- 
pily unobservant  of  his  own  complicated  mental 
processes  and  of  the  motives  of  his  own  human 
heart,  becoming  more  and  more  actively  assist- 
ant as  Brother  Reuben  Bates  grew  panicky, 
hesitant,  and  involved,  and  kept  convulsively  on 
through  sheer  inability  to  stop,  suggesting  ep- 
ilepsy rather  than  piety. 

It  was  over  at  last;  exhausted  nature  pre- 
vailed, and  Brother  Bates  resumed  his  seat, 
wiping  the  perspiration  from  his  brow  and 
raucously  clearing  his  rasped  throat. 

There  was  a  great  scraping  of  the  rough  shoes 
and  boots  on  the  floor  as  the  congregation  rose, 
and  one  or  two  of  the  benches  were  moved 
backward  with  a  harsh,  grating  sound.  A  small 
boy  had  gone  to  sleep  during  the  petition,  and 
remained  in  his  prayerful  attitude.  Brother 
Jake  Tobin  settled  himself  in  his  chair  as  com- 
fortably as  might  be,  tilted  it  back  on  its  hind- 
legs  against  the  wall,  and  wore  the  air  of  nav- 
ing  fairly  exploited  his  share  of  the  services  and 
cast  off  responsibility.  The  congregation  com- 
posed itself  to  listen  to  the  sermon. 


GREAT  SMOKY  MOUNTAINS.  187 

There  was  an  expectant  pause.  Kelsey  re- 
membered ever  after  the  tumult  of  emotion 
with  which  he  stepped  forward  to  the  table  and 
opened  the  book.  He  turned  to  the  New  Tes- 
tament for  his  text,  —  turned  the  leaves  with  a 
familiar  hand.  Some  ennobling  phase  of  that 
wonderful  story  which  would  touch  the  tender, 
true  affinity  of  human  nature  for  the  higher 
things,  —  from  this  he  would  preach  to-day. 
And  yet,  at  the  same  moment,  with  a  contra- 
riety of  feeling  from  which  he  shrank  aghast, 
there  was  skulking  into  his  mind  all  that  grew- 
some  company  of  doubts.  In  double  file  they 
came :  fate  and  free  agency,  free  will  and  fore- 
ordination,  infinite  mercy  and  infinite  justice, 
God's  loving  kindness  and  man's  intolerable 
misery,  redemption  and  damnation.  He  had 
evolved  them  all  from  his  own  unconscious  logi- 
cal faculty,  and  they  pursued  him  as  if  he  had, 
in  some  spiritual  necromancy,  conjured  up  a 
devil,  —  nay,  legions  of  devils.  Perhaps  if  he 
had  known  how  they  have  assaulted  the  hearts 
of  men  in  times  gone  past ;  how  they  have  been 
combated  and  baffled,  and  yet  have  risen  and 
pursued  again ;  how,  in  the  scrutiny  of  science 
and  research,  men  have  paused  before  their 
awful  presence,  analyzed  them,  philosophized 
about  them,  and  found  them  interesting ;  how 
others,  in  the  levity  of  the  world,  having  heard 


188  THE  PROPHET  OF   THE 

of  them,  grudge  the  time  to  think  upon  them, 
—  if  he  had  known  all  this,  he  might  have  felt 
some  courage  in  numbers. 

As  it  was,  there  was  no  fight  left  in  him. 
He  closed  the  book  with  a  sudden  impulse.  "  My 
Men's,"  he  said,  "  I  stan'  not  hyar  ter  preach 
ter-day,  but  fur  confession." 

There  was  a  galvanic  start  among  the  con- 
gregation, then  intense  silence. 

"  I  hev  los'  my  faith ! "  he  cried  out,  with  a 
poignant  despair.  "  God  ez  gin  it  —  ef  thar  is 
a  God  —  hev  tuk  it  away.  You-uns  kin  go 
on.  You-uns  kin  b'lieve.  Yer  paster  b'lieves, 
an'  he  '11  lead  ye  ter  grace,  —  leastwise  ter  a 
better  life.  But  fur  me  thar 's  the  nethermost 
depths  of  hell,  ef  "  —  how  his  faith  and  his 
unfaith  tried  him!  —  "ef  thar  be  enny  hell. 
Leastwise —  Stop,  brother,"  —  he  held  up 
his  hand  in  deprecation,  for  Parson  Tobin 
had  risen  at  last,  with  a  white,  scared  face; 
nothing  like  this  had  ever  been  heard  in  all 
the  length  and  breadth  of  the  Great  Smoky 
Mountains, —  "  bear  with  me  a  little ;  ye  '11  see 
me  hyar  no  more.  Fur  me  thar  is  shame,  ah  ! 
an'  trial,  ah!  an'  doubt,  ah!  an'  despair,  ah! 
The  good  things  o'  life  hev  not  fallen  ter  me. 
The  good  things  o'  heaven  air  denied.  My 
name  is  ter  be  a  by-word  an'  a  reproach  'mongst 
ye.  Ye '11  grieve  ez  ye  hev  ever  hearn  the 


GREAT  SMOKY  MOUNTAINS.  189 

Word  from  me,  ah  !  Ye  '11  be  held  in  derision ! 
An'  I  hev  hed  trials,  —  none  like  them  ez  air 
comin',  comin',  down  the  wind.  I  hev  been  a 
man  marked  fur  sorrow,  an'  now  fur  shame." 

He  stood  erect ;  he  looked  bold,  youthful. 
The  weight  of  his  secret,  lifted  now,  had  been 
heavier  than  he  knew.  In  his  eyes  shone  that 
strange  light  which  was  frenzy,  or  prophecy,  or 
inspiration ;  in  his  voice  rang  a  vibration  they 
had  never  before  heard. 

"  I  will  go  forth  from  'mongst  ye,  —  I  that  am 
not  of  ye.  Another  shall  gird  me  an'  carry  me 
where  I  would  not.  Hell  an'  the  devil  hev  pre- 
vailed agin  me.  Pray  fur  me,  brethren,  ez  I 
cannot  pray  fur  myself.  Pray  that  God  may 
yet  speak  ter  me,  —  speak  from  out  o'  the 
whurlwind." 

There  was  a  sound  upon  the  air.  Was  it  the 
rising  of  the  wind  ?  A  thrill  ran  through  the 
congregation.  The  wild  emotion,  evoked  and 
suspended  in  this  abrupt  pause,  showed  in  pallid 
excitement  on  every  face.  Several  of  the  men 
rose  aimlessly,  then  turned  and  sat  down  again. 
Brought  from  the  calm  monotony  of  their  inner 
life  into  this  supreme  crisis  of  his,  they  were 
struck  aghast  by  the  hardly  comprehended  sit- 
uations of  his  spiritual  drama  enacted  before 
them.  And  what  was  that  sound  on  the  air  ? 
In  the  plenitude  of  their  ignorant  faith,  were 
they  listening  for  the  invoked  voice  of  God  ? 


190  THE  PROPHET  OF  THE 

Kelsey,  too,  was  listening,  in  anguished  sus- 
pense. 

It  was  not  the  voice  of  God,  that  man  was 
wont  to  hear  when  the  earth  was  young ;  not 
the  rising  of  the  wind.  The  peace  of  the  golden 
sunshine  was  supreme.  Even  a  tiny  cloudlet,  an- 
chored in  the  limited  sky,  would  not  sail  to-day. 

On  and  on  it  came.  It  was  the  galloping  of 
horse,  —  the  beat  of  hoofs,  individualized  pres- 
ently to  the  ear,  —  with  that  thunderous,  swift, 
impetuous  advance  that  so  domineers  over  the 
imagination,  quickens  the  pulse,  shakes  the 
courage. 

It  might  seem  that  all  the  ingenuity  of 
malignity  could  not  have  compassed  so  com- 
plete a  revenge.  The  fulfillment  of  his  prophecy 
entered  at  the  door.  All  its  spiritual  signifi- 
cance was  annihilated;  it  was  merged  into  a 
prosaic  material  degradation  when  the  sheriff 
of  the  county  strode,  with  jingling  spurs,  up 
the  aisle,  and  laid  his  hand  upon  the  preacher's 
shoulder.  He  wore  his  impassive  official  aspect. 
But  his  deputy,  following  hard  at  his  heels,  had 
a  grin  of  facetious  triumph  upon  his  thin  lips. 
He  had  been  caught  by  the  nape  of  the  neck, 
and  in  a  helpless,  rodent-like  attitude  had  been 
slung  out  of  the  door  by  the  stalwart  man  of 
God,  when  he  and  Amos  James  had  ventured 
to  the  meeting-house  in  liquor ;  and  neither  he 


GREAT  SMOKY  MOUNTAINS.  191 

nor  the  congregation  had  forgotten  the  sensa- 
tion. It  was  improbable  that  such  high-handed 
proceedings  could  be  instituted  to-day,  but  the 
sheriff  had  taken  the  precaution  to  summon  the 
aid  of  five  or  six  burly  fellows,  all  armed  to 
the  teeth.  They  too  came  tramping  heavily  up 
the  aisle.  Several  wore  the  reflection  of  the 
deputy's  grin ;  they  were  the  "  bold,  bad  men," 
the  prophet's  early  associates  before  "he  got 
religion,  an'  sot  hisself  ter  consortin'  with  the 
saints."  The  others  TOere  sheepish  and  doubt- 
ful, serving  on  the  posse  with  a  protest  under 
the  constraining  penalties  of  the  law. 

The  congregation  was  still  with  a  stunned 
astonishment.  The  preacher  stood  as  one  petri- 
fied, his  eyes  fixed  upon  the  sheriff's  face.  The 
officer,  with  a  slow,  magisterial  gesture,  took  a 
paper  from  his  breast-pocket,  and  laid  it  upon 
the  Bible. 

"  Ye  kin  read,  pa'son,"  he  said.  *'  Ye  kin 
read  the  warrant  fur  yer  arrest." 

The  deputy  laughed,  a  trifle  insolently.  He 
turned,  swinging  his  hat,  —  he  had  done  the 
sacred  edifice  the  reverence  of  removing  it,  — 
and  surveyed  the  wide-eyed,  wide-mouthed 
people,  leaning  forward,  standing  up,  huddled 
together,  as  if  he  had  some  speculation  as  to 
the  effect  upon  them  of  these  unprecedented 
proceedings. 


192  THE  PROPHET  OF  THE 

Kelsey  could  read  nothing.  His  strong  head 
was  in  a  whirl ;  he  caught  at  the  table,  or  he 
might  have  fallen.  The  amazement  of  it,  —  the 
shame  of  it ! 

"  Who  does  this  ?  "  he  exclaimed,  in  sudden 
realization  of  the  situation.  Already  self-con- 
victed of  the  blasphemy  of  infidelity,  he  stood 
in  his  pulpit  in  the  infinitely  ignoble  guise  of  a 
culprit  before  the  law. 

Those  fine  immaterial  issues  of  faith  and  un- 
f  aith,  —  where  were  they  ?  The  torturing  fear 
of  futurity,  and  of  a  personal  devil  and  a 
material  hell,  —  how  impotent !  His  honest 
name,  —  never  a  man  had  borne  it  that  had  suf- 
fered this  shame ;  the  precious  dignity  of  free- 
dom was  riven  from  him ;  the  calm  securities 
of  his  self-respect  were  shaken  forever.  He 
could  never  forget  the  degradation  of  the  sher- 
iff's touch,  from  which  he  shrank  with  so  ab- 
rupt a  gesture  that  the  officer  grasped  his  pistol 
and  every  nerve  was  on  the  alert.  Kelsey  was 
animated  at  this  moment  by  a  pulse  as  essen- 
tially mundane  as  if  he  had  seen  no  visions  and 
dreamed  no  dreams.  He  had  not  known  how 
he  held  himself,  —  how  he  cherished  those  val- 
ues, so  familiar  that  he  had  forgotten  to  be 
thankful  till  their  possession  was  a  retrospec- 
tion. 

He   sought   to   regain  his   self-control.     He 


GREAT  SMOKY  MOUNTAINS.  193 

caught  up  the  paper ;  it  quivered  in  his  trem- 
bling hands ;  he  strove  to  read  it.  "  Rescue !  " 
he  cried  out  in  a  tense  voice.  "Rick  Tyler  I 
I  never  rescued  Rick  Tyler !  " 

The  words  broke  the  long  constraint.  They 
were  an  elucidation,  a  flash  of  light.  The  con- 
gregation looked  at  him  with  changed  eyes,  and 
then  looked  at  each  other.  Why  did  he  deny  ? 
Were  not  the  words  of  his  prophecy  still  on  the 
air  ?  Had  he  not  confessed  himself  an  evil- 
doer, forsaken  of  God  and  bereft  of  grace  ?  Hia 
prophecy  was  matched  by  the  details  of  his  ex- 
perience. Had  he  done  no  wrong  he  could  have 
foreseen  no  vengeance. 

"  Rick  Tyler  ain't  wuth  it,"  said  one  old  man 
to  another,  as  he  spat  on  the  floor. 

The  widow  of  Joel  Byers,  the  murdered  man, 
fell  into  hysterical  screaming  at  Rick  Tyler's 
name,  and  was  presently  borne  out  by  her 
friends  and  lifted  into  one  of  the  wagons. 

"  It  air  jes'  ez  well  that  the  sher'ff  takes 
Pa'son  Kelsey,  arter  that  thar  confession  o' 
his'n,"  said  one  of  the  dark-browed  men,  help- 
ing to  yoke  the  oxen.  "  We  could  n't  hev  kep' 
him  in  the  church  arter  sech  words  ez  his'n,  an' 
church  discipline  ain't  a-goin'  ter  cast  out  no 
sech  devil  ez  he  air  possessed  by." 

Brother  Jake  Tobin,  too,  appreciated  that 
the  arrest  of  the  preacher  in  his  pulpit  was  a 

13 


194  THE  PROPHET  OF  THE 

solution  of  a  difficult  question.  It  was  mani- 
festly easier  for  the  majesty  of  the  State  of 
Tennessee  to  deal  with  him  than  for  the  little 
church  on  the  Big  Smoky. 

"  Yer  sins  hev  surely  fund  ye  out,  Brother 
Kelsey,"  he  began,  with  the  air  of  having 
washed  his  hands  of  all  responsibility.  "  God 
would  never  hev  f ursook  ye,  ef  ye  hed  n't  fur- 
sook  the  good  cause  fust.  Ye  air  ter  be  cast 
down,  — ye  who  hev  stood  high." 

There  was  a  momentary  silence. 

"  Will  ye  come  ? "  said  the  sheriff,  smiling 
fixedly,  "  or  had  ye  ruther  be  fetched  ?  " 

The  deputy  had  a  pair  of  handcuffs  dangling 
officiously.  They  rattled  in  rude  contrast  with 
the  accustomed  sounds  of  the  place. 

Kelsey  hesitated.  Then,  after  a  fierce  in- 
ternal struggle,  he  submitted  meekly,  and  was 
led  out  from  among  them. 


GREAT  SMOKY  MOUNTAINS.  195 


XL 

IT  is  seldom,  in  this  world  at  least,  that  a 
man  who  absents  himself  from  church  repents 
it  with  the  fervor  of  regret  which  Amos  James 
experienced  when  he  heard  of  the  unexpected 
proceedings  at  the  Notch. 

"Sech  a  rumpus — dad-burn  my  luck  —  I 
mought  never  git  the  chance  ter  see  agin  ! "  he 
declared,  with  a  pious  sense  of  deprivation. 
And  he  thought  it  had  been  a  poor  substitute 
to  sit  on  the  doorstep  all  the  forenoon  Sunday, 
"ez  lonesome  ez  a  b'ar  in  a  hollow  tree,"  be- 
cause his  heart  was  yet  so  sore  and  sensitive 
that  he  could  not  see  Dorinda's  pink  sun-bonnet 
without  a  rush  of  painful  emotion,  or  her  face 
without  remembering  how  she  looked  when  he 
talked  of  the  rescue  of  Rick  Tyler. 

The  "  gang  o'  men  "  —  actively  described  by 
his  mother  as  "  lopin'  roun'  the  mill "  —  lin- 
gered long  in  conclave  this  morning.  Perhaps 
their  views  had  a  more  confident  and  sturdy 
effect  from  being  propounded  at  the  top  of  the 
voice,  since  the  insistent  whir  of  the  busy  old 
mill  drowned  all  efforts  in  a  lower  tone ;  but  it 
was  very  generally  the  opinion  that  Micajah 


196  THE  PROPHET  OF  THE 

Green  had  transcended  all  the  license  of  his 
official  character  in  making  the  arrest  at  the 
place  and  time  he  had  selected. 

"  I  knows,"  commented  one  of  the  disaffected, 
"  ez  it  air  the  law  o'  Tennessee  ez  a  arrest  kin 
be  made  of  a  Sunday,  ef  so  be  it  must.  But 
'pears  like  ter  me  't  war  nuthin'  in  this  worP 
but  malice  an'  meanness  ez  tuk  ch'ice  o'  the 
minute  the  man  hed  stood  up  ter  preach  the 
Word  ter  arrest  him.  'Cajah  Green  mus'  hev 
tuk  keerful  heed  o'  time,  —  jes'  got  thar  spang 
on  the  minute." 

"  He  w-war  n't  p-p-preachin'  the  Word," 
stuttered  Pete  Cayce,  antagonistically.  "  He 
hed  jes'  'lowed  he  w-w-war  n't  fit  ter  preach  it. 
No  more  war  he." 

He  had  come  down  from  the  still  to  treat  for 
meal  for  the  mash.  He  was  willing  to  wait,  — 
nay,  anxious,  that  he  *night  bear  his  share  in 
the  conversation. 

He  tilted  his  chair  back  against  the  wall,  and 
nodded  his  long,  drab-tinted  locks  convincingly. 

The  water  whirled  around  the  wheel;  the 
race  foamed  with  prismatic  bubbles,  flashing 
opal-like  in  the  sun  ;  the  vague  lapsing  of  the 
calm  depths  in  the  pond  was  like  some  deep 
sigh,  as  of  the  fullness  of  happiness  or  reflec- 
tive content,  —  not  pain.  The  water  falling 
over  the  dam  babbled  in  a  meditative  under- 


GREAT  SMOKY  MOUNTAINS.  197 

tone.  All  sounds  were  dominated  by  the  whir 
of  the  mill  in  its  busy,  industrial  monody,  and 
within  naught  else  could  be  heard,  save  the 
strident  voices  pitched  on  the  miller's  key  and 
roaring  the  gossip.  Through  the  window  could 
be  seen  the  rocky  banks  opposite,  their  summits 
tufted  with  huckleberry  and  sassafras  bushes 
and  many  a  tangle  of  weeds ;  the  dark  shadow 
in  the  water  below ;  the  slope  of  the  mountain 
rising  above.  A  branch,  too,  of  the  low-spread- 
ing chestnut- oak,  that  hung  above  the  roof  of 
the  mill,  was  visible,  swaying  close  without ; 
it  cast  a  tempered  shade  over  the  long  cobwebs 
depending  from  the  rafters,  whitened  by  the 
dust  of  the  flour.  The  rough,  undressed  tim- 
bers within  were  of  that  mellow,  rich  tint, 
intermediate  between  yellow  and  brown,  so 
restful  to  the  eye.  The  floor  was  littered  with 
bags  of  corn,  on  which  some  of  the  men 
lounged ;  others  sat  in  the  few  chairs,  and 
Amos  James  leaned  against  the  hopper. 

"  Waal,  retorted  the  first  speaker,  ez  fur  ez 
'Cajah  Green  could  know,  he  'd  hev  been 
a-preachin'  then,  an'  argyfyin'  his  own  right- 
eousness ;  an'  'Cajah  laid  off  ter  kem  a-step- 
pin'  in  with  his  warrant  ter  prove  him  a  liar 
an'  convict  him  o'  sinnin'  agin  the  law  'fore  his 
congregation." 

"Tears  like   ter  me   ez  pa'son  war   sorter 


198  THE  PROPHET  OF  THE 

forehanded,"  said  Pete,  captiously.  "  He  bed 
proved  hisself  a  liar  'fore  the  sheriff  got  thar ; 
saved  'Cajah  the  trouble." 

"  I  beam,"  said  another  man,  "  ez  pa'son 
up-ed  an'  'lowed  ez  he  didn't  b'lieve  in  the 
Lord,  an'  prophesied  his  own  downfall  an'  his 
trial  'fore  the  sher'ff  got  thar." 

"  He  d-d-did  !  "  shouted  Pete.  "  We  never 
knowed  much  more  arter  'Cajah  an'  the  dep'ty 
kem  'n  we  did  afore.  Pa'son  said  they  'd  gird 
him  an'  t-t-take  him  whar  he  did  n't  want  ter 
g-go,— an'  so  they  d-d-d-did." 

"  D-d-did  what?  "  mockingly  demanded  Amos 
James,  with  unnecessary  rancor,  it  might  have 
seemed. 

Pete's  infirmity  became  more  pronounced 
under  this  cavalier  treatment.  "  T-t-take  him 
w-w-w-whar  he  didn't  w-w-w-want"  —  explo- 
sively —  "  ter  go,  ye  fool !  " 

"Whar?" 

"  D'  ye  reckon  he  wanted  ter  go  ter  jail  in 
Shaftesville  ?  "  demanded  Pete,  with  scathing 
scorn.  His  sneering  lip  exposed  his  long,  pro- 
truding teeth,  and  his  hard-featured  face  was 
unusually  repellant. 

"  Hev  they  tuk  him  ter  jail,  —  the  pa'son  ?  — 
Pa'son  Kelsey  ?  "  exclaimed  Amos  James,  in  a 
deeply  serious  tone.  He  looked  fixedly  at  Pete, 
as  if  he  might  thus  express  more  than  he  said 


GREAT  SMOKY  MOUNTAINS.  199 

in  words.  There  was  indignation  in  his  black 
eyes,  even  reproach.  He  still  leaned  on  the 
hopper,  but  there  was  nothing  between  the 
stones,  for  he  had  forgotten  to  pour  in  more 
corn,  and  the  industrious  flurry  of  the  unsen- 
tient  old  mill  was  like  the  bustle  of  many  clever 
people,  —  a  great  stir  about  nothing.  He  wore 
his  broad-brimmed  white  hat  far  back  on  his 
head.  His  black  hair  was  sprinkled  with  flour 
and  meal,  and  along  the  curves  of  his  features 
the  snowy  flakes  had  congregated  in  thin  lines, 
bringing  out  the  olive  tint  of  his  complexion, 
and  intensifying  the  sombre  depths  of  his  eyes. 

Pete  returned  the  allusion  to  his  defective 
speech  by  a  comment  on  the  intentness  of  the 
miller's  gaze. 

"  Ye  look  percisely  like  a  ow-eZ,  Amos,  —  per- 
cisely  like  a  old  horned  ho-ho-hooter,"  he  de- 
clared, with  a  laugh.  "  Ya-as,"  he  continued, 
"  they  did  take  pa'son  ter  jail,  bein'  ez  the  jes- 
tice  that  the  sher'ff  tuk  him  afore  —  old  Squair 
Prine,  ye  know  —  h-he  could  n't  decide  ez  ter 
his  g-guilt.  The  Squair  air  so  onsartain  in  his 
mind,  an'  wavers  so  ez  ter  his  knowledge,  that 
I  hev  hearn  ez  ev'y  day  he  counts  his  toes  ter 
make  sure  he's  got  ten.  So  the  old  Squair 
h-hummed  and  h-h-hawed  over  the  evidence, 
an'  he  '1-lowed  ter  Pa'son  K-Kelsey  ez  he 
could  n't  b'lieve  nuthin'  agin  him  right  handy, 


200  TEE  PROPHET  OF  THE 

ez  he  bed  sot  under  his  p-preachin'  many  a  time 
an'  profited  by  it ;  but  thar  war  his  cur'ous  per- 
forrnin'  'bout'n  the  gaynder  whilst  Rick  got  off, 
an'  he  bed  beam  ez  pa'son  turned  his  back  on 
the  Lord  in  a  s'prisin'  way.  Then  the  Squair 
axed  how  he  kem  ter  prophesy  his  own  arrest 
ef  he  bed  done  nuthin'  ter  bring  it  on.  The 
Squair  'lowed  'twar  a  serious  matter,  a  pen'- 
tiary  offense ;  an'  he  war  n't  cl'ar  in  his  own 
mind ;  an'  he  up-ed  an'  down-ed,  an'  twisted  an' 
turned,  an'  he  did  n't  know  what  ter  do :  so  the 
e-end  war  he  jes'  committed  Pa'son  Kelsey  ter 
jail,  ter  await  the  action  o'  the  g-g-g-gran' 
jury." 

Pete  gave  this  detail  with  some  humor,  wag- 
ging his  head  back  and  forth  to  imitate  the 
magisterial  treatment  of  the  quandary,  and 
putting  up  first  one  hand,  then  the  other, 
stretching  out  first  one  rough  boot,  then  the 
other,  to  signify  the  various  points  of  the 
dilemma. 

Amos  James  did  not  laugh.  He  still  gravely 
gazed  at  the  narrator. 

"  Why  n't  he  git  bail  ?  "  he  demanded,  gruffly. 

"  Waal,  he  did  n't  —  'kase  he  could  n't.  The 
old  man,  he  fixed  the  bail  without  so  much  dilly- 
dallyin'  an'  jouncin'  'roun'  in  his  mind  ez  ye 
mought  expec'.  He  jes'  put  on  his  specs,  an' 
polished  his  old  bald  noodle  with  his  red 


GREAT  SMOKY  MOUNTAINS.  201 

h-h-handkercher,  an'  tuk  a  fraish  chaw  o'  ter- 
bacco,  an'  put  his  nose  in  his  book,  an'  tuk  it 
out  ter  brag  ez  them  crazy  bugs  in  N-N-Nash- 
vul  sent  him  a  book  ev'y  time  they  made  a 
batch  o'  new  laws,  —  pore,  prideful  old  critter 
mus'  hev  been  lyin' !  —  an'  then  he  put  his  nose 
in  his  book  agin'  like  he  smelt  the  law  an' 
trailed  it  by  scent.  'T  war  n't  more  'n  haffen 
hour  'fore  he  tuk  it  out,  an'  say  the  least  bail 
he  could  take  war  a  thousand  d-d-dollars  fur  the 
defendant,  an'  five  hunderd  fur  each  of  his  sure- 
ties, —  like  it  hev  bee»  in  ev'y  sech  case  'fore 
a  jestice  s-sence  the  Big  Smoky  Mountings  war 
made." 

Pete  laughed,  his  great  fore-teeth,  his  flexible 
lip,  his  long,  bony  face  and  tangled  mane,  giv- 
ing him  something  of  an  equine  aspect.  His 
mood  was  unusually  jocular ;  and  indeed  a  man 
might  experience  some  elation  of  spirit  to  be 
the  only  one  of  the  "  lopers  round  "  at  the  mill 
who  had  been  present  at  a  trial  of  such  signifi- 
cance. The  close  attention  accorded  his  every 
word  demonstrated  the  interest  in  the  subject, 
and  the  guffaws  which  greeted  his  sketch  of  the 
familiar  character  of  the  old  "  Squair  "  was  a 
flattering  tribute  to  his  skill  as  a  raconteur. 
The  peculiar  antagonism  of  his  disposition  was 
manifested  only  in  the  delay  and  digressions  by 
which  he  thwarted  Amos  James's  eagerness  to 


202  THE  PROPHET  OF  THE 

know  why  Parson  Kelsey  had  not  been  ad- 
mitted to  bail.  He  could  not  accurately  inter- 
pret the  indignation  in  the  miller's  look,  and 
he  cared  less  for  the  threat  it  expressed.  Cow- 
ardice was  not  predicable  of  one  of  the  Cayce 
tribe.  Perhaps  it  might  have  been  agreeable 
for  the  community  if  the  discordant  Pete  could 
have  been  more  readily  intimidated. 

"Why n't  pa'son  gin  the  bail,  then?"  de- 
manded Amos,  again. 

"  He  did  gin  it,"  returned  Pete,  perversely. 

"  Waal,  then,  how  'd  the  sher'ff  take  him  ter 
jail?" 

"  Right  down  the  county  road,  ez  ye  an'  me 
an'  the  rest  of  us  hyar  in  the  Big  Smoky  hev 
worked  on  till  sech  c-c-cattle  ez  'Cajah  Green 
an'  his  buzzardy  dep'ty  hain't  got  no  sort'n 
c-chance  o'  breakin'  thar  necks  over  the  rocks 
an'  sech." 

" Look-a-hyar,  Pete  Cayce,  I'll  fling  ye  bo- 
daciously  over  that  thar  bluff !  "  exclaimed 
Amos  James,  darkly  frowning. 

A  rat  that  had  boldly  run  across  the  floor  a 
number  of  times,  its  whiskers  powdered  white, 
its  tail  white  also,  and  gayly  frisking  behind  it, 
had  ventured  so  close  to  the  miller's  motionless 
foot  that  when  he  stepped  hastily  forward  it 
sprang  into  the  air  with  a  wonderfully  human 
expression  of  fright ;  then,  in  a  sprawling  fash- 


GREAT  SMOKY  MOUNTAINS.  203 

ion  it  swiftly  sped  away  to  some  dark  corner, 
where  it  might  meditate  on  the  escaped  danger 
and  take  heed  of  foolhardiness. 

"  W-w-what  would  I  be  a-doin'  of,  Amos 
Jeemes,  whilst  ye  war  a-flingin'  m-me  over  the 
b-b-bluff  ?  "  demanded  Pete,  pertinently. 

"  What  ails  ye,  ter  git  tuk  so  suddint  in  yer 
temper,  Amos  ?  "  asked  another  of  the  baffled 
listeners,  who  desired  to  promote  peace  and 
further  the  account  of  Parson  Kelsey's  exam- 
ination before  the  magistrate.  "  Amos  jes' 
axed  ye,  Pete,  why  pa'son  war  n't  admitted  ter 
bail." 

"  H-h-he  never  none,  now,"  said  Pete.  "  He 
axed  w-w-why  Pa'son  Kelsey  did  n't  g-gin  bail. 
He  did  gin  it,  but  't-t  warn't  accepted." 

"  What  fur  ? "  demanded  Amos,  relapsing 
into  interest  in  the  subject,  and  leaning  back 
against  the  hopper. 

"  Waal,"  said  Pete,  preferring,  on  the  whole, 
the  distinction  of  relating  the  proceedings  be- 
fore the  magistrate  to  the  more  familiar  diver- 
sion of  bickering,  "  pa'son  he  'lowed  he  'd  gin 
his  gran'dad  an'  his  uncle  ter  go  on  his  bond  ; 
an'  the  Squair,  arter  he  hed  stuck  his  nose  into 
his  book  a  couple  o'  times,  an'  did  n't  see  nuthin' 
abolishin'  gran'dads  an'  uncles,  he  tuk  it  out  an* 
refraished  it  with  a  pinch  o'  snuff,  an'  'lowed 
he  'd  take  gran'dad  an'  uncle  on  the  bond.  An' 


204  THE  PROPHET  OF   THE 

then  up  jumped  Gid  Fletcher,  the  blacksmith 
over  yander  ter  the  Settlemint,  —  him  it  war  ez 
swore  out  the  warrant,  —  an'  demanded  the 
Squair  would  hear  his  testimony  agin  it.  That 
thar  'Cajah  Green,  he  sick-ed  him  on,  all  the 
time.  I  seen  Gid  Fletcher  storp  suddint  wunst, 
an'  wall  his  eye  'round  onsartin'  at  'Cajah 
Green,  ez  ef  ter  make  sure  he  war  a-sayin'  all 
right.  An'  'Cajah  Green,  he  batted  his  eye, 
ez  much  ez  ter  say,  '  Go  it,  old  hoss  ! '  Sure 
ez  ye  air  born  them  two  fixed  it  up  afore- 
hand." 

"  I  do  de-spise  that  thar  critter,  'Cajah 
Green !  "  exclaimed  one  of  the  men,  who  was 
sitting  on  a  sack  of  corn  in  the  middle  of  the 
floor.  "  He  fairly  makes  the  trigger  o'  my 
rifle  itch  !  I  hope  he  won't  kem  out  ahead  at 
the  August  election.  The  Big  Smoky*'ll  hev 
ter  git  him  beat  somehows ;  we  can't  hev  him 
aggervatin'  'roun'  hyar  another  two  year." 

The  fore-legs  of  Pete  Cayce's  tilted  chair 
came  down  with  a  thump.  He  leaned  for- 
ward, and  with  a  marked  gesture  offered  his 
big  horny  paw  to  the  man  who  sat  on  the  bag 
of  corn ;  they  solemnly  shook  hands  as  on  a 
compact. 

Amos  James  still  leaned  against  the  empty 
hopper,  listening  with  a  face  of  angry  gloom  as 
Pete  recommenced :  — 


GREAT  SMOKY  MOUNTAINS.  205 

"Waal,  the  Squair,  he  put  his  nose  inter 
his  book  agin,  an'  then  he  'lowed  he  'd  hear  Gid 
Fletcher's  say-so.  An'  Gid,  —  waal,  he  '11  be 
mighty  good  metal  fur  the  devil's  anvil ;  I  feel 
it  in  my  bones  how  Satan  will  rej'ice  ter  draw 
Gid  Fletcher  down  small,  —  he  got  up  an' 
'lowed  ez  pa'son  an'  his  uncle  an'  his  gran'dad 
did  n't  wuth  two  thousand  dollars.  They  hed 
what  they  hed  all  tergether,  an'  't  war  n't 
enough,  —  't  war  n't  wuth  more  'n  a  thousan', 
ef  that.  An'  so  the  Squair,  —  waal,  he  looked 
toler'ble  comical,  a-nosin'  in  hi»  book  an'  a-pol- 
ishin'  off  the  torp  o'  his  head  with  his  red  hand- 
kercher,  an'  he  war  ez  oneasy  an'  onsartain  in 
his  actions  ez  a  man  consortin'  accidentally 
with  a  bumbly  bee.  He  tried  'em  all  powerful 
in  thar  temper,  bein'  so  gin  over  ter  backin' 
an'  fo'thin' ;  but  ez  he  war  the  jestice  they  hed 
ter  sot  'round  an'  look  solemn  an'  respec'ful. 
An'  at  las'  he  said  he  could  n't  accept  the  bail, 
ez  't  war  insufficient.  The  dep'ty  looked  like 
he  'd  jump  up  an'  down,  an'  crack  his  heels  to- 
gether ;  'peared  like  he  war  glad  fur  true.  An' 
the  Squair,  he  'lowed  ez  the  rescue  war  a  crime 
ez  mought  make  a  jestice  keerful  how  he  tuk 
insufficient  bail.  Ennybody  ez  would  holp  a 
man  ter  escape  from  cust'dy  would  jump  his 
bond  hisself,  though  he  war  tol'erble  keerful  ter 
explain  ter  pa'son  ez  he  never  ondertook  ter 


206  THE  PROPHET  OF  THE 

charge  nuthin'  on  him,  nuther.  An'  he  hed  ter 
bear  in  mind  ez  he  oc'pied  a  m-m-mighty  im- 
portant place  in  the  1-law,  —  though  I  can't  see 
ez  it  air  so  mighty  important  ter  h-h-hev  ter 
say,  '  I  dunno ;  let  the  court  decide.' ' 

Amos  James  remembered  the  hopper  at  last. 
He  turned,  and,  as  he  lifted  a  bag  and  poured 
in  the  corn,  he  asked,  his  eyes  on  the  golden 
stream  of  grain,  — 

"  An'  what  did  pa'son  say  when  he  fund  it 
out?" 

Pete  Cayce  laughed,  his  big  teeth  making 
the  facetious  demonstration  peculiarly  pro- 
nounced. He  was  looking  out  of  the  window, 
through  the  leafy  bough  of  the  overspreading 
chestnut-oak,  at  the  deep,  transparent  water  in 
the  pond.  The  dark,  lustrous  reflection  of  the 
sassafras  and  huckleberry  bushes  on  the  sum- 
mit of  the  vertical  rocky  bank  was  like  some 
mezzotinted  landscape  under  glass.  A  frog  on 
one  of  the  ledges  at  the  waterside  was  a  picture 
of  amphibious  content ;  sometimes  his  mouth 
opened  and  shut  quickly,  with  an  expression,  if 
not  beautiful,  implying  satisfaction.  Pete  lazily 
caught  up  a  stick  which  he  had  been  whit- 
tling. The  slight  missile  flew  through  the  air, 
catching  the  light  as  it  went.  Its  aim  was  ac- 
curate, and  the  next  moment  the  monotony  of 
the  placid  surface  was  broken  by  the  elastically 


GREAT  SMOK7  MOUNTAINS.  207 

widening  circles  above  the  spot  where  the  frog 
jumped  in. 

"  The  pa'son,"  he  said  languidly,  having  sat- 
isfactorily concluded  this  exploit,  —  "  at  fust  it 
looked  like  the  c-critter  could  n't  make  it  out, 
—  he  'peared  toler'ble  peaked  an'  white-faced, 
but  the  way  he  behaved  ter  the  sher'ff  'minds 
me  o'  the  tales  the  old  men  tell  'bout'n  Hangin' 
Maw  an'  Bloody  Feller,  an'  them  t'other  wild 
Injuns  that  useter  agger vate  the  white  folks  in 
the  Big  Smoky,  —  proud  an'  straight,  an'  look- 
in'  at  'Cajah  Green  ez  ef  he  war  jes'  the  dirt 
under  his  feet.  Waal,  pa'son  'lowed,  calm  an' 
quiet,  ez  I  'd  be  skinnin'  a  deer  or  suthin,'  ez 
he  'd  ruther  be  obligated  ter  his  own  f-folks  fur 
that  holp,  but  ez  that  could  n't  be  he  'd  git  bail 
from  others.  'T  war  n't  m-much  matter  jes' 
till  he  could  'pear  'fore  the  court,  fur  nuthin' 
could  be  easier'n  ter  prove  ez  he  hed  n't  res- 
cued Rick  Tyler,  nor  never  gin  offense  agin  the 
law.  An'  he  turned  round  ez  s-s-sure  an'  quiet 
ter  Pa'son  Tobin,  who  hed  kem  along  ter  see 
what  mought  be  a-doin',  an'  sez  he,  '  B-Brother 
Jake  Tobin,  you-uns  an'  some  o'  the  c-church 
folks,  I  know,  will  be  'sponsible  fur  the  bail.' 
An'  ef  ye  '11  b'lieve  me,  Brother  Jake  Tobin,  he 
got  up  slanch-wise,  an'  in  sech  a  hurry  the 
cheer  fell  over  ahint  him ;  an'  sez  he,  4  Naw, 
brother,  —  I  will  call  ye  brother,'  —  like  that 


208  THE  PROPHET   OF  THE 

war  powerful  'commodatin',  —  '  I  kin  not  sot 
my  p-people  ter  do  sech,  arter  yer  words  yes- 
tiddy.  We  kin  lose  no  money  by  ye,  —  the 
church  air  pore  an'  the  cause  air  n-needy.  I 
kin  only  pray  fur  the  devil  ter  1-loose  his  holt 
on  ye,  f-fur  I  perceive  the  devil  in  ye.'  Waal, 
sir,"  continued  Pete,  drawing  a  plug  of  tobacco 
from  his  pocket,  and  gnawing  on  it  with  tugging 
persistence,  "  Christian  perfesser  ez  I  be,  I  felt 
sorter  'shamed  o'  Brother  J-Jake  Tobin,  —  he 
looked  s-s-sech  a  skerry  h-half -liver,  'feard  o' 
losin'  money !  Shucks !  I  could  sca'cely  keep 
my  hands  off'n  him.  He  looked  so  —  so  cur'ous, 
I  wanted  ter  —  ter"  —  he  remembered  the  rever- 
ence due  to  the  cloth  —  "ter  trip  him  up,"  he 
concluded,  temperately.  "  An'  then,  ez  he  war 
a-whurlin'  his  fat  sides  around  ter  pick  up  the 
cheer,  Pa'son  K-Kelsey,  —  he  hed  t-turned 
plumb  bleached,  like  a  corpse,  —  he  stood  up 
an'  sez,  '  The  Lord  hev  fursaken  me  ! '  An' 
Brother  Jake  Tobin  humps  around,  with  the 
cheer  in  his  hand,  an'  sez,  '  Naw,  brother,  naw, 
ye  hev  fursook  the  Lord  ! ' 

"  Waal,"  said  the  man  on  the  bag  of  corn, 
gazing  meditatively  at  the  dusty  floor  and  at  a 
great  yellow  cur  who  had  ventured  within,  as  a 
shelter  from  the  midday  heat,  and  lay  at  un- 
gainly length  asleep  near  the  door,  "  I  dunno  ez 
I  kin  blame  Brother  Jake  Tobin.  'T  would  hev 


GREAT  SMOKY  MOUNTAINS.  209 

made  a  mighty  scandal  ter  keep  Pa'son  Kelsey 
in  the  church,  arter  what  he  said  agin  the 
faith.  We  '11  hev  ter  turn  him  out ;  an'  ez  he 
air  ter  be  turned  out,  I  dunno  ez  the  church 
members  hev  enny  call  ter  go  on  his  bond.  He 
air  none  o'  we-uns,  nowadays." 

"  Leastwise  none  o'  'em  war  a-goin'  t-ter  do 
it,"  said  Pete,  quietly.  "  They  air  all  mindful 
o'  Brother  Jake  Tobin's  longest  ear,  ez  kin  hear 
a  call  from  the  church  yander  in  Cade's  Cove 
ev'y  time  he  g-gits  mad  at  'em.  But  I  tell  ye," 
added  Pete,  restoring  his  plug  of  tobacco  to  his 
pocket,  and  chewing  hard  on  the  bit  which  his 
strong  teeth  had  wrenched  off,  "  it  did  'pear  ter 
me  ez  they  mought  hev  stretched  a  p'int  when 
I  see  the  pa'son  ridin'  off  with  them  two  sneak- 
in'  off'cers.  He  hed  so  nigh  los'  his  senses  with 
the  notion  he  war  a-goin'  ter  be  jailed  ez  they 
hed  ter  hold  him  up  in  the  saddle,  else  he  'd  hev 
been  under  the  beastis's  huffs  in  a  minute." 

"  Why  n't  you-uns  go  on  his  bond  ?  "  asked 
Amos  James,  suddenly. 

"  Who  ?  "  shouted  Pete,  in  stentorian  amaze, 
above  the  clamor  of  the  old  mill. 

"  You-uns,  —  the  whole  Cayce  lay-out,"  reit- 
erated Amos  James. 

His  blood  had  risen  to  his  face.  All  the  in- 
stincts of  justice  within  him  revolted  at  the 
picture  Pete  had  drawn,  coarsely  and  crudely 

14 


210  THE  PROPHET  OF  THE 

outlined,  but  touched  with  the  vivid  realities  of 
nature.  It  was  as  a  scene  present  before  him  : 
the  falsely  accused  man  borne  away,  crushed 
with  shame,  while  the  true  criminal  looked  on 
with  a  lax  conscience  and  an  impersonal  inter- 
est, and  thriftily  saved  his  observations  to  re- 
count to  his  cronies  at  the  mill.  Amos  James 
cared  naught  for  the  outraged  majesty  of  the 
law.  The  rescue  of  the  prisoner  from  its  fierce 
talons  seemed  to  him,  instead,  humane  and  be- 
neficent. His  sense  of  justice  was  touched  only 
by  the  manifest  cruelty  when  one  man  was 
forced  to  bear  the  consequences  of  another's  act. 

"  You-uns  mought  hev  done  ez  much,"  he 
said,  significantly. 

"I  reckon  they  would  hev  'lowed  ez  we 
war  n't  wuth  it,"  said  Pete,  quietly  ruminant ; 
"  the  still  can't  show  up." 

"  Ye  never  tried  it,"  said  Amos. 

"  Waal,  d-dad,  he  war  n't  thar,  an'  I  could  n't 
ondertake  ter  speak  fur  the  rest.  An'  I  ain't 
beholden  no  ways  ter  Pa'son  Kelsey.  I  hev  no 
call  ter  b-b-bail  him  ez  I  knows  on.  I  hev  no 
hand  in  his  bein'  arrested  an'  sech." 

"  Hev  no  hand  in  his  bein'  arrested  !  "  retorted 
Amos,  scornfully. 

Pete  was  staring  stolidly  at  him,  and  the 
other  men  assumed  an  intent,  inquiring  attitude. 
Amos  James  felt  suddenly  that  he  had  gone  too 


GREAT  SMOKY  MOUNTAINS.  211 

far.  He  had  no  wish  to  fasten  this  stigma 
upon  the  Cayces  ;  he  had  every  reason  to  avoid 
it.  He  did  not  know  how  far  he  had  been  ac- 
counted a  confidant  in  the  intimacies  of  the  cave 
when  Rick  Tyler  had  found  a  refuge  there. 
He  could  not  disregard  the  trust  reposed  in  him. 
And  yet  he  could  not  recall  his  words. 

Pete's  blank  gaze  changed  to  an  amazed  com- 
prehension. He  spoke  out  bluntly  the  thought 
in  the  other's  mind. 

"  Ye  air  a-thinkin',  Amos  Jeemes,  ez  't  war 
we-uns  ez  cut  Rick  Tyler  a-loose  o7  the  sher'ff !  " 
he  exclaimed. 

Amos,  confronted  with  his  own  suspicion,  lis- 
tened with  a  guilty  air. 

"  Ye  air  surely  the  b-b-b-biggest  f-f-f-fool  "  — 
the  words  seemed  very  large  with  these  addi- 
tional consonants  —  "in  the  shadder  o'  the  B- 
b  -  b  -  Big  S-s-s-sm-Smoky  M-m-Mountings  !  " 
Pete  spread  them  out  with  all  the  magnifying 
facilities  of  his  infirmity. 

"  Waal,  then,"  said  Amos,  crestfallen,  "  who 
done  it?" 

"Why,  P-Pa'son  Kelsey,  I  reckon." 


212  THE  PROPHET  OF  THE 


XII. 

THAT  memorable  arrest  in  the  Big  Smoky 
was  the  last  official  act  of  the  sheriff,  except  the 
surrender  of  his  books  and  papers  and  taking 
his  successor's  receipt  for  the  prisoners  in  the 
county  jail.  The  defeat  had  its  odious  aspects. 
The  race  had  been  amazingly  unequal.  Had 
the  ground  tottered  beneath  him,  as  he  stood  in 
the  grass-fringed  streets  of  Shaftesville,  and 
heard  the  rumors  of  the  returns  from  the  civil 
districts,  he  could  hardly  have  experienced  a 
sensation  of  insecurity  commensurate  with  this, 
for  all  his  moral  supports  were  threatened.  His 
self-confidence,  his  arrogant  affinity  for  author- 
ity, his  pride,  and  his  ambition  keenly  barbed 
the  prescience  of  this  abnormal  flatness  of  fail- 
ure. He  was  pierced  by  every  careless  glance ; 
every  casual  word  wounded  him.  He  had  a 
strange  disturbing  sense  of  a  loss  of  identity. 
This  anxious,  brow-beaten,  humiliated  creature, 
—  was  this  Micajah  Green?  He  did  not  rec- 
ognize himself ;  every  throb  within  him  had  an 
alien  impulse ;  he  repudiated  every  cringing 
mental  process.  It  was  his  first  experience  of 
the  rigors  of  adversity ;  it  did  not  quell  him  ;  he 
felt  effaced. 


GREAT  SMOKY  MOUNTAINS.  213 

He  feebly  sought  to  goad  himself  to  answer 
the  rough  chaff  of  spurious  sympathizers  with 
his  old  bluff  spirit ;  his  retort  was  like  the 
lisp  of  a  child  in  defiance  of  the  challenge  of  a 
bugle.  He  saw  with  faltering  bewilderment 
how  the  interesting  spectacle  increased  his  audi- 
ence ;  it  resembled  in  some  sort  an  experiment 
in  vivisection,  and  where  the  writhings  most 
suggested  an  appreciated  anguish,  each  curious 
scientist  most  longed  to  thrust  the  scalpel. 

The  coroner  held  the  election,  as  the  sheriff 
himself  was  a  candidate,  and  when  the  result 
became  known  the  details  excited  increased 
comment.  In  the  district  of  the  county  town 
he  had  a  majority,  but  the  unanimity  against 
him  in  .the  outlying  districts,  especially  in  the 
Big  Smoky  and  its  widespread  spurs  and  coves, 
was  unprecedented  in  the  annals  of  the  county. 
He  had  hoped  that  the  election  of  judge  and  at- 
torney-general, taking  place  at  the  same  time, 
might  divert  attention  from  the  disastrous  com- 
pleteness of  his  failure.  But  their  race  involved 
no  peculiar  phase  of  popular  interest,  and  the 
more  important  results  were  subordinated,  so 
far  as  the  county  was  concerned,  to  the  spec- 
tacle of  'Cajah  Green,  "  flabbergasted  an'  flus- 
trated  like  never  war  seen."  New  elements  of 
gossip  were  added  now  and  then,  vivaciously 
canvassed  among  the  knots  of  men  perched  on 


214  THE  PROPHET  OF  THE 

barrels  in  the  stores,  or  congregated  in  the  post- 
office,  or  sitting  on  the  steps  of  the  court-house, 
and  were  ruthlessly  detailed  to  the  ex-sheriff, 
whose  starts  of  rage,  unthinking  relapses  into 
official  speech,  jerks  of  convulsive  surprise,  pro- 
longed the  amusement  beyond  its  natural  span. 

It  ceased  suddenly.  The  adjustment  to  a  new 
line  of  thought  and  to  a  future  under  altered 
conditions  was  facilitated  by  the  inception  of  an 
immediate  definite  intention  and  a  sentiment 
coequal  with  the  passion  of  despair.  The  idlers 
of  the  town  might  not  have  been  able  to  accu- 
rately define  the  moment  when  the  drama  of 
defeat,  with  which  he  had  prodigally  enter- 
tained them,  lost  its  interest.  But  there  was 
a  moment  that  differed  from  all  the  others  of 
the  lazy  August  hours ;  the  minimum  of  time 
charged  with  disproportionate  importance.  It 
might  be  likened  to  a  symbol  of  chemistry, 
which,  though  the  simplest  alphabetical  char- 
acter, is  significant  of  an  essential  element  in- 
volving life,  —  perhaps  death. 

That  moment  the  wind  came  freshly  down 
from  the  mountains ;  the  glare  of  the  morning 
sun  rested  on  the  empty,  sandy  street  of  the 
village ;  the  weeds  and  grass  that  obscured  the 
curbing  of  the  pavement  were  still  overhung 
by  a  glittering  gossamer  net  of  dew.  A  yellow 
butterfly  flitted  over  it,  followed  by  another  so 


GREAT  SMOKY  MOUNTAINS.  215 

like  that  it  could  not  be  distinguished  from  its 
aerial  counterpart.  The  fragrance  of  new-mown 
hay  somewhere  in  the  rural  metropolis  was  sweet 
on  the  air.  A  blue-bottle,  inside  the  window 
of  the  store  hard  by,  droned  against  the  glass, 
and  seemed  in  some  sort  an  echo  to  the  mo- 
notonous drawl  of  a  man  who  had  lately  been 
up  in  the  Big  Smoky,  and  who  had  gleaned 
fresh  points  concerning  the  recent  election. 

"  What  did  ye  ever  do  ter  the  Cayces,  'Cajah, 
or  what  did  Bluff  Peake  ever  do  fur  'em  ?  "  he 
asked,  as  preliminary  to  detailing  that  the 
Cayces  had  turned  out  and  pervaded  the  Great 
Smoky  Mountains,  electioneering  against  the 
incumbent.  "  They  rid  hyar  an'  they  rid  thar, 
—  up  in  the  mountings  an'  down  in  the  coves ; 
an'  some  do  say  thar  war  one  o'  'em  in  ev'y 
votin'-place  in  all  the  mounting  deestric's  the 
day  the  'lection  kem  off,  jes'  a-stiffenin'  up  the 
Peake  men,  an'  a-beggin',  an'  a-prayin',  an' 
a-wraslin'  in  argymint  with  them  ez  hed  gin 
out  they  war  a-goin'  ter  vote  fur  you-uns.  Bluff 
Peake  say  they  fairly  'lected  him,  though  he 
'lowed  't  war  n't  fur  love  o'  him.  I  wonder  ye 
done  ez  well  ez  ye  did,  'Cajah,  though  ye 
couldn't  hev  done  much  wuss,  sure  enough. 
All  o'  'em  war  out,  from  old  Groundhog  down 
ter  Sol,  when  they  war  'lectioneerin',  an'  the 
whiskey  ez  war  drunk  round  the  Settlemint  an' 


216  THE  PROPHET  OF  THE 

sech  war  'sprisin'.  Some  say  old  Groundhog 
furnished  it  free." 

The  ex-sheriff  made  no  reply.  There  was  a 
look  in  his  eye  that  gave  his  long,  lean  head, 
deeply  sunken  at  the  temples,  less  the  aspect  of 
that  of  a  whipped  hound  than  it  had  worn  of 
late.  One  might  have  augured  that  he  was  a 
dangerous  brute.  And  after  that,  the  conver- 
sation with  the  recent  election  as  a  theme 
flagged,  and  died  out  gradually. 

It  was  only  a  few  days  before  he  had  occasion 
to  go  up  into  the  Great  Smoky  Mountains,  on 
matters,  he  averred,  connected  with  closing  un- 
settled business  of  the  office  which  he  had  held. 
As  he  jogged  along,  he  moodily  watched  the 
distant  mountains,  growing  ever  nearer,  and 
engirdled  here  and  there  with  belts  of  white 
mists,  above  whose  shining  silver  densities  some- 
times would  tower  a  gigantic  "  bald,"  with  a 
suspended,  isolated  effect,  like  some  wonderful 
aerial  regions  unknown  to  geography,  foreign 
to  humanity.  The  supreme  dignity  of  their 
presence  was  familiar  to  him.  Their  awful 
silence,  like  the  unspeakable  impressiveness  of 
some  overpowering  thought,  affected  him  not. 
The  vastness  of  the  earth  which  they  suggested, 
beneath  the  immensities  of  the  sky,  which 
leaned  upon  them,  found  no  responsive  large- 
ness in  his  emotions.  Those  barren  domes  of 


GREAT  SMOKY  MOUNTAINS.  217 

an  intense  blue,  tinged  with  purple  where  the 
bold  rocks  jutted  out,  flushed  where  the  yellow 
sunshine  languished  to  a  blush ;  those  heavily 
wooded  slopes  below  the  balds,  sombre  and  rich 
in  green  and  bronze  and  all  darkling  shades,  — 
touched,  too,  here  and  there  with  a  vivid  crim- 
son where  the  first  fickle  sumach  flared ;  those 
coves  in  which  shadows  lurked  and  vague  senti- 
ments of  color  were  abroad  in  visionary  guise, 
in  unexplained  softness  of  grays  and  hardly 
realized  blues,  in  dun  browns  and  sedate  yel- 
lows, vanishing  before  the  plain  prose  of  an 
approach,  —  he  had  reduced  all  this  to  a  scale 
of  miles,  and  the  splendors  of  the  landscape 
were  not  more  seemly  or  suggestive  than  the, 
colors  of  a  map  on  the  wall.  It  was  a  mental 
scale  of  miles,  for  the  law  decreeing  a  suffi- 
ciency of  mile-posts  seemed  to  weaken  in  the 
rnggedness  of  the  advance,  and  when  he  was 
fairly  among  the  coves  and  ravines  they  disap- 
peared. He  pushed  his  horse  rather  hard,  as 
the  time  wore  on,  but  sunset  was  on  the  moun- 
tains before  he  came  upon  the  great  silent 
company  of  dead  trees  towering  above  the 
Settlement  in  the  reddening  light,  and  tracing 
their  undeciphered  hieroglyphics  across  the  val- 
ley beneath  and  upon  the  heights  beyond.  The 
ringing  vibrations  of  the  anvil  were  on  the  air ; 
the  measured  alternations  of  the  hand-hammer 


218  THE  PROPHET  OF  THE 

and  the  sledge  resounded  in  a  clear,  metallic 
fugue ;  the  flare  from  the  forge  fire  streamed 
through  the  great  door  of  the  blacksmith's  shop, 
giving  fluctuating  glimpses  of  the  interior,  but 
fainting  and  fading  into  impotent  artificiality 
before  the  gold  and  scarlet  fires  ablaze  in  the 
western  sky. 

A  wagon,  broken  down  and  upheld  by  a  pole 
in  lieu  of  one  of  the  wheels,  stood  in  front  of 
the  blacksmith's  shop,  and  was  evidently  the 
reason  of  Gid  Fletcher's  industry  at  this  late 
hour.  Its  owner  loitered  aimlessly  about ;  now 
looking,  with  the  gloat  of  acquisition,  at  his 
purchases  stowed  away  in  the  wagon,  and  now 
nervously  at  a  little  barefoot  girl  whom  he  had 
brought  with  him  to  behold  the  metropolitan 
glories  of  the  Settlement.  He  occasionally 
asked  her  anxious  questions.  "  Ain't  you-uns 
'most  tired  out,  Euraliny  ?"  he  would  say  ;  or, 
"Don't  ye  feel  wore  in  yer  backbone,  hevin' 
ter  wait  so  long?"  or,  "Hedn't  ye  better  lay 
down  on  the  blanket  in  the  wagin  an'  rest  yer 
bones,  bein'  ez  we-uns  started  'fore  daybreak  ?  " 
But  the  sturdy  Euralina  shook  her  sun-bonnet, 
with  her  head  in  it,  in  emphatic  negation  at 
every  suggestion,  and  sat  upright  on  the  board 
laid  across  the  rough,  springless  wagon,  looking 
about  her  gravely,  with  a  stalwart  determina- 
tion to  see  all  there  was  in  the  famed  Settle- 


GREAT  SMOKY  MOUNTAINS.  219 

mint;  thinking,  perhaps,  that  her  backbone 
would  have  leisure  to  humor  its  ails  in  the  re- 
tirement of  home.  What  an  ideal  traveler 
Euralina  would  be  under  a  wider  propitiousness 
of  circumstance!  And  so  the  anxious  parent 
could  only  stroll  about  as  before,  and  contem- 
plate his  purchases,  and  pause  at  the  door  of 
the  blacksmith's  shop  to  say,  "Ain't  you-uns 
'most  done,  Gid  ?  "  in  a  tone  of  harrowing  in- 
sistence, for  the  fortieth  time  since  the  black- 
smith's services  were  invoked. 

Gid  Fletcher  looked  up  with  a  lowering  brow 
as  Micajah  Green  entered.  The  shadows  of 
evening  were  dense  in  the  ill-lighted  place  ;  the 
fluctuations  of  the  forge  fire,  now  flaring,  now 
fading,  intensified  the  idea  of  gloom.  The  red- 
hot  iron  that  the  blacksmith  held  on  the  anvil 
threw  its  lurid  reflection  into  his  swarthy  face 
and  his  eyes;  his  throat  was  bare;  his  ath- 
letic figure,  girded  with  his  leather  apron,  de- 
monstrated in  its  poses  the  picturesqueness  of 
the  simple  craft ;  his  sleeve  was  rolled  tightly 
from  his  huge,  corded  hammer-arm.  His  hand- 
hammer  seemed  endowed  with  some  nice  dis- 
criminating sense  as  it  tapped  here  and  there 
with  an  imperative  clink,  and  the  great  sledge 
in  the  striker's  hands  came  crashing  down  to 
execute  its  sharp  behests,  while  the  flakes  flew 
from  the  metal  in  jets  of  golden  sparks. 


220  THE  PROPHET  OF  THE 

A  man  is  never  so  plastic  to  virtuous  impulses 
as  when  he  is  doing  well  his  chosen  work.  La- 
bor was  ordained  to  humanity  as  a  curse ;  surely 
God  repented  him  of  the  evil.  What  blessing 
has  proved  so  beneficent ! 

The  suggestions  entering  with  the  new-comer 
were  at  variance  with  this  wholesome  industrial 
mood.  They  recalled  to  the  blacksmith  his  baf- 
fled avarice,  his  revenge,  and  the  malice  that 
had  influenced  his  testimony  at  the  committing 
trial.  More  than  once,  of  late,  while  the  anvil 
sang  responsive  to  the  hammer's  sonorous  clan- 
gor, and  the  sparks  flew,  emblazoning  the  twi- 
light of  the  shop  with  arabesques  of  golden 
flakes,  and  the  iron  yielded  like  wax  to  fire  and 
force,  he  had  a  sudden  fear  that  he  had  not 
done  well.  True,  he  had  sworn  to  nothing 
which  he  did  not  believe,  either  in  the  affidavit 
for  the  warrant  or  at  the  committing  trial ;  but 
the  widely  chartered  credulity  of  an  angry  man  ! 
He  said  to  himself  in  extenuation  that  he  would 
not  have  gone  so  far  but  for  the  sheriff. 

He  was  not  glad,  with  these  recollections 
paramount,  to  see  Micajah  Green  again.  Some 
concession  he  made,  however,  to  the  dictates  of 
hospitality. 

"  Hy  're,  'Cajah,"  he  said,  albeit  gruffly,  and 
the  monotonous  clinking  of  the  hand-hammer 
and  the  clanking  of  the  sledge  went  on  as  be- 
fore. 


GREAT  SMOKY  MOUNTAINS.  221 

Micajah  Green's  knowledge  of  life  had  not 
been  wide,  but  there  was  space  to  evolve  a 
cynical  reflection  that,  being  down  in  the  world 
now,  he  must  bite  the  dust,  and  he  attributed 
this  cavalier  treatment  to  the  perverse  result  of 
the  election. 

He  had  acquired  something  of  the  manner  of 
bravado,  from  his  recent  experience  as  a  de- 
feated candidate,  and  he  swaggered  a  little  as  he 
strolled  about  the  dirt  floor  of  the  shop  ;  glancing 
at  the  forge  fire,  slumberously  glowing,  at  the 
smoky  hood  above  it,  at  the  window  opening 
upon  the  purpling  mountains  and  the  fading 
west.  He  even  paused,  and  turned  with  his 
foot  the  clods  of  the  cavity  still  yawning  below 
the  lowest  log,  where  the  escaped  man  had 
crawled  through. 

There  was  an  altercation  at  this  moment  be- 
tween the  smith  and  his  assistant ;  for  the  work 
was  not  so  satisfactory  as  when  Gid  Fletcher's 
mind  was  exclusively  bent  upon  it,  and  his 
striker  officiated  also  as  scapegoat,  although 
that  function  was  not  specified  as  his  duty  in 
their  agreement.  Gid  Fletcher  had  marked 
with  furtive  surprise  and  doubt  every  movement 
of  the  intruder,  and  this  show  of  interest  in  the 
only  trace  of  the  escape  by  which  was  lost  his 
rich  reward  roused  his  ire. 

"  Even  the  dogs  hev  quit  that,  'Cajah,"  he 


222  THE  PROPHET  OF  THE 

said,  enigmatically,  as  he  caught  up  the  iron  for 
the  new  skene  and  thrust  it  into  the  fire,  while 
the  striker  fell  to  at  the  bellows.  The  long 
sighing  burst  forth  ;  the  fire  flared  to  redness, 
to  a  white  heat,  every  vivid  coal  edged  by  a 
fan  of  yellow  shimmer.  The  blacksmith's  fine 
stalwart  figure  was  thrown  backward  ;  his  face 
was  lined  with  sharp  white  lights  ;  he  was  look- 
ing over  his  shoulder,  and  laughing  silently,  but 
with  a  sneer. 

"  The  dogs  ?  "  said  Micajah  Green,  amazed. 
He  did  not  sneer. 

"  The  dogs  tuk  ter  cropin'  in  an'  out'n  that 
thar  hole  fur  five  or  six  days  arter  Rick  Tyler 
got  away,"  Gid  Fletcher  explained.  "  'Feared 
ter  be  nosin'  round  fur  him,  too.  I  dunno  what 
notion  tuk  'em,  but  I  never  would  abide  'em  in 
the  shop,  an'  so  I  jes'  kep'  that  fur  'em,"  —  he 
nodded  at  a  leather  strap  hanging  on  the  rod, 
—  "an'  larnt  'em  ter  stay  out  o'  hyar.  But 
even  they  hev  gin  it  up  now." 

"  I  hain't  gin  it  up,  though,"  said  Micajah 
Green,  still  turning  the  clods  with  his  foot. 
"  I  '11  be  held  responsible  by  the  court  fur  the 
escape,  I  reckon,  ef  the  gran'  jury  remembers 
ter  indict  me  fur  it,  ez  negligence.  An'  ef  I  kin 
lay  my  hands  on  Rick  Tyler  yit  I  '11  be  mighty 
glad  ter  feel  of  him." 

The  blacksmith,  without  changing  his  atti* 


GREAT  SMOKY  MOUNTAINS.  223 

tude,  looked  hard  at  his  visitor  for  a  moment. 
Something  rang  false,  in  the  speech.  He  could 
not  have  said  what  it  was,  but  his  moral  sense 
detected  it,  as  his  practiced  ear  might  have 
discovered  by  the  sound  a  flaw  in  the  metal 
under  his  hammer. 

"  Ye  ain't  kem  up  the  Big  Smoky  a-huntin' 
fur  Rick  Tyler,"  he  said  at  length. 

"  Naw,"  admitted  Micajah  Green  ;  "  it 's  jes' 
'bout  some  onsettled  business  o'  the  county. 
But  ef  I  war  ter  meet  up  with  Rick  in  the  road 
I  would  n't  pass  him  by." 

He  said  this  with  a  satirical  half  laugh,  still 
turning  the  clods  with  his  foot,  the  vivid  white 
light  illuminating  his  figure  and  his  face  be- 
neath his  straw  hat.  The  next  moment  the 
sighing  bellows  was  silent,  and  Gid  Fletcher 
and  his  striker  had  the  red-hot  metal  between 
them  on  the  anvil,  and  were  once  more  forging 
that  intricate  metallic  melody,  with  its  singing 
echoes,  that  seemed  to  endow  the  little  log  cabin 
with  a  pulsing  heart,  that  flowed  from  its  sur- 
charged chamber  out  into  the  gray  night,  to 
the  deeply  purple  mountains,  to  the  crescent 
golden  moon,  to  the  first  few  stars  pulsating  as 
if  in  rhythm  to  the  clinking  of  the  hand-ham- 
mer and  the  clanking  of  the  sledge,  —  forging 
this,  and  as  its  incident  the  durable  skene  which 
should  enable  Euralina  and  her  parent  to  leave 
the  Settlement  shortly. 


224  THE  PROPHET  OF  THE 

"  I  hopes  ter  git  home  'fore  daybreak,  Gid," 
he  said,  desperately,  standing  in  the  door,  and 
looking  wistfully  at  the  iron  in  process  of  trans- 
formation upon  the  anvil.  He  turned  out  again 
presently,  and  Micajah  Green  paused,  leaning 
against  the  window,  and  looking  doubtfully 
from  time  to  time  at  the  striker.  This  was  an 
ungainly,  heavy  young  mountaineer,  with  a 
shock  of  red  hair,  a  thick  neck,  and  unfinished 
features  which  seemed  not  to  have  been  ac- 
counted worthy  of  more  careful  moulding. 
There  was  a  look  of  humble  pain  in  his  face 
when  the  blacksmith  angrily  upbraided  him. 
His  perceptions  were  inefficient  to  accurately 
distribute  blame ;  he  was  only  receptive,  poor 
fellow !  and  we  all  know  that  in  every  sense 
those  who  can  only  take,  and  cannot  return, 
have  little  to  hope  from  the  world.  He  was 
evidently  not  worth  fearing ;  and  Micajah  Green 
disregarded  him  as  completely  as  the  presence 
of  the  anvil. 

"  Talkin'  'bout  Rick  Tyler,  did  you-uns  go 
sarchin'  that  night  —  the  dep'ty's  party  —  ter 
the  still  they  say  old  man  Cayce  runs  ?  " 

rt  Naw,"  —  Gid  Fletcher  paused,  his  hammer 
uplifted,  the  red  glow  of  the  iron  on  his  med- 
itative face  and  eyes ;  the  striker,  both  hands 
upholding  the  poised  sledge,  waited  in  the  dusky 
background,  —  "  naw.  We  met  up  Tvith  Pete 


GREAT  SMOKY  MOUNTAINS.  225 

Cayce,  an'  he  'lowed  ez  he  hedn't  seen  nor 
hearn  o'  Rick  Tyler." 

"  Ef  I  hed  been  along  I  'd  hev  sarched  the 
still,  too." 

The  blacksmith  stared  in  astonishment. 

"  Pete  Cayce's  say-so  war  all  I  wanted,"  he 
declared ;  "  an'  I  hed  the  two  hunderd  dollars 
ez  I  hed  yearned,  an'  ye  hed  flunged  away, 
a-hangin'  on  ter  it,"  he  added. 

"  I  hey  a  mind  ter  go  thar  now,  whilst  I  be 
on  the  Big  Smoky,  an'  talk  ter  the  old  man 
'bout'n  it,"  Green  said,  reflectively.  He  had 
drawn  out  his  clasp  knife,  and  was  whittling  a 
piece  of  white  oak  which  he  had  picked  up 
from  the  ground.  With  the  energy  of  his  in- 
tention the  slivers  flew. 

The  blacksmith  glanced  in  furtive  surprise  at 
his  downcast  face,  but  for  a  moment  said  noth- 
ing- 
Then,  "  Hain't  you-uns  hearn  how  the  Cayces 
turned  out  agin  ye  at  the  'lection  ?  Ef  they 
did  n't  defeat  ye,  they  made  it  an  all-fired  sight 
wuss.  Ez  fur  ez  I  could  hear,  me  and  Tobe 
Grimes  war  the  only  men  in  the  Big  Smoky  ez 
voted  fur  ye.  I  war  plumb  'shamed  o'  it  arter- 
ward.  I  hates  ter  be  beat.  I  'm  thinkin'  they 
ain't  a-hankerin'  ter  see  ye  down  yander  at  the 
still." 

The  defeated  candidate's  face  turned  deeply 

15 


THE  PROPHET  OF  THE 

scarlet  pending  this  recital.  But  he  said  with 
an  off-hand  air,  "  I  ain't  a-keerin'  fur  that  now; 
that 's  'count  o'  an  old  grudge  the  Cayces  hold 
agin  me.  All  I  want  now  is  ter  kem  up  with 
Kick  Tyler,  ef  so  be  I  kin,  afore  the  gran'  jury 
sits  again ;  an'  I  hev  talked  with  ev'ybody  on 
the  mountings,  mighty  nigh,  'ceptin'  it  be  the 
Cayces.  Which  fork  o'  ^he  road  is  it  ye  take 
fur  the  still,  —  I  furgit,  —  the  lef  or  the 
right?" 

Gid  Fletcher  burst  into  a  sudden  laugh,  al- 
most as  metallic,  as  inexpressive  of  any  human 
emotion,  as  if  it  had  issued  from  the  anvil.  His 
face  flushed,  not  the  reflection  from  the  iron, 
which  had  cooled,  but  with  his  own  angry  red 
blood  ;  his  figure,  visible  in  the  sullen  illumina- 
tion of  the  dull  forge  fire,  was  tense  and  motion- 


"  Ye  never  knew,  'Cajah  Green !  "  he  cried. 
"  Ye  don't  take  nare  one  o'  the  forks  o'  the  road. 
Ye  ain't  a-goin'  ter  know,  nuther,  from  me.  I 
ain't  a-hankerin'  ter  be  fund  dead  in  the  road 
some  mornin',  with  a  big  bullet  in  my  skull- 
bone,  an'  nobody  ter  know  how  sech  happened. 
Ef  ye  hev  a  mind  ter  spy  out  the  Cayces  fur 
the  raiders,  ye  air  on  a  powerful  cold  scent ; 
thar  ain't  nobody  on  this  mounting  ez  loves  lead 
well  enough  ter  tell  whar  old  Groundhog  holds 
forth.  Them  ez  he  wants  ter  know  —  knows 


GREAT  SMOKY  MOUNTAINS.  227 

'thout  bein'  told.  Ye  ain't  smart  enough,  'Ca- 
jah  Green,  ter  match  yer  meanness !  " 

It  is  difficult  for  a  man,  without  the  hope  of 
deceiving,  to  maintain  a  deception,  and  it  was 
with  scant  verisimilitude  that  Micajah  Green 
denied  the  detection  of  his  clumsy  ruse,  and 
swore  that  he  only  wanted  to  come  up  with 
Rick  Tyler.  He  went  through  the  motions, 
however,  while  the  blacksmith  looked  at  him 
with  uncovered  teeth,  and  a  demonstration  that 
in  a  man  might  be  described  as  a  smile,  but  in 
a  wildcat  would  be  called  a  snarl.  The  fierce, 
surprised  glare  of  the  eyes  added  the  comple- 
ment of  expression.  Now  and  then  he  growled 
indignant  interpolations  :  "  Naw  ;  ye  'lowed  ez 
I  'd  tell  ye,  an'  ye  'd  tell  the  raiders,  an'  then 
somehow  ye  'd  hev  shifted  the  blame  on  me, 
an'  them  Cayces  —  five  of  'em  an'  all  thar  kin 
—  would  hev  riddled  me  with  thar  bullets  till 
folks  would  n't  hev  knowed  which  war  metal 
an'  which  war  man." 

Still  Micajah  Green  maintained  his  feint  of 
denial,  and  the  blacksmith  presently  ceased  to 
contradict. 

It  was  Fletcher's  privilege  to  entertain  this 
visitor  at  the  Settlement,  and  the  behests  of 
hospitality  could  hardly  be  served  without 
ignoring  the  disagreement  that  had  arisen  be- 
tween them.  Little,  however,  was  said  while 


228  THE  PROPHET  OF  THE 

the  wagon  axle  and  skene  were  in  process  of 
completion,  and  then  adjusted  to  the  vehicle 
by  the  light  of  a  lantern.  Jer'miah  came  over 
from  the  store,  and  presided  after  the  manner 
of  small  boys,  regarding  each  phase  of  the  oper- 
ation with  an  interest  for  which  a  questioner 
would  have  found  no  corresponding  fullness  of 
information,  —  a  sort  of  spurious  curiosity,  sat- 
isfying the  eye,  but  having  no  connection  with 
the  brain.  Euralina,  who  was  small  for  her 
sun-bonnet,  a  grotesque  and  top-heavy  little  fig- 
ure stood  in  the  door  of  the  forge,  —  also  a  wide- 
eyed  and  impressed  spectator.  The  blacksmith 
was  a  very  good  illustration  of  a  rural  Hercules, 
as  he  riveted  his  bolts,  and  lifted  the  body  of 
the  ponderous  vehicle,  and  went  lightly  in  and 
out  of  the  forge.  He  did  his  work  well  and 
quickly  too,  for  a  mountaineer,  and  he  had  the 
artisan's  satisfaction  in  his  handicraft,  as  with 
his  hammer  still  in  his  hand,  he  watched  the 
slow  vehicle  creak  along  the  road  between  the 
cornfield  and  the  woods,  and  disappear  grad- 
ually from  view.  The  wheels  still  sounded  as- 
sertively on  the  air  ;  the  katydids'  iteration  rose 
in  vibrant  insistence;  the  long,  vague,  perva- 
sive sighing  of  the  woods  added  to  the  night  its 
deep  melancholy.  The  golden  burnished  blade 
of  the  new  moon  was  half  sheathed  in  invisibil- 
ity behind  a  dark  mountain's  summit.  The 


GREAT  SMOKY  MOUNTAINS.  229 

blacksmith's  house  was  on  the  elevated  slope 
beyond  the  forge,  and  as  he  turned  on  his  porch 
and  looked  back  he  noted  the  one  salient  change 
in  the  landscape  as  seen  from  the  higher  level, 
—  above  the  distant  mountain  summit  the  moon 
showed  its  glittering  length,  as  if  withdrawn 
from  the  scabbard.  He  glanced  at  it  and  shut 
the  door. 

Mica j ah  Green  had  the  best  that  the  humble 
log  cabin  could  afford,  and  no  dearth  of  fair 
words  as  a  relish  to  the  primitive  feast.  It  was 
only  the  next  morning,  when  his  foot  was  in 
the  stirrup,  that  his  host  recurred  to  the  theme 
of  the  evening  before. 

"  Look-a-hyar,  'Cajah  Green,  you-uns  jes'  let 
old  Groundhog  Cayce  be.  Ye  ain't  a-goin'  ter 
find  out  whar  his  still  air  a-workin',  an'  ef  he 
war  ter  hear  ez  ye  hed  been  'quirin'  'round 
'bout'n  it 't  would  be  ez  much  ez  yer  life  air 
wuth." 

Micajah  Green  renewed  his  hollow  protesta- 
tions, discredited  as  before,  and  the  blacksmith, 
shading  his  eyes  from  the  sun  with  his  broad 
blackened  right  hand,  watched  him  ride  away. 
Even  when  he  was  out  of  sight  Gid  Fletcher 
stood  for  a  time  silently  looking  at  the  spot 
where  horse  and  man  had  disappeared.  Then 
he  shook  his  head,  and  went  into  the  forge. 

"  Zeke,"  he  said  to  his  humble  striker,  "  ye 


230  THE  PROPHET  OF  THE 

air  a  fool,  an'  ye  know  it.  But  ye  air  a  smart 
man  ter  that  loon,  fur  the  hell  of  it  air  he  dun  no 
he  air  a  loon." 

His  warnings,  nevertheless,  had  more  effect 
than  he  realized.  They  served  as  a  check  on 
Micajah  Green's  speech  with  the  few  men  that 
he  met,  —  all  surly  enough,  however,  to  repel 
confidence,  were  there  no  other  motive  to  with- 
hold it.  He  saw  in  this  another  confirmation 
of  the  Cayces'  enmity,  and  their  activity  in 
weakening  his  hold  on  the  people.  He  began 
to  think  it  hard  that  he  should  be  thus  at 
their  mercy ;  that  his  office  should  be  wrested 
from  him ;  that  they  should  impose  unexam- 
pled indignities  of  defeat ;  that  he  should  not 
dare  to  raise  his  hand  against  them,  —  nay,  his 
voice,  for  even  the  reckless  Gid  Fletcher  had 
cautions  for  so  much  as  a  word. 

Some  trifling  errand  which  he  had  used  as  a 
pretext  for  his  journey  brought  him  several 
miles  along  the  range,  and  when  he  was  actu- 
ally starting  down  the  mountain,  his  vengeance 
still  muzzled,  his  ingenuity  at  fault,  his  courage 
faltering,  all  the  intention  of  his  journey  merged 
in  its  subterfuge,  he  found  himself  upon  the 
road  which  led  past  the  Cayces'  house,  and  in 
many  serpentine  windings  down  the  long,  jag- 
ged slopes  to  the  base.  Noontide  was  near. 
The  shadows  were  short.  He  heard  the  bees 


GREAT  SMOKY  MOUNTAINS.  231 

droning.  The  far-away  mountains  were  of  an 
exquisite  ethereal  azure,  discrediting  the  opaque 
turquoise  blue  of  the  sky.  The  dark  wooded 
coves  had  a  clear  distinctness  of  tone  and  defi- 
niteness  of  detail,  despite  the  distance.  The 
harmonies  of  color  that  filled  the  landscape  cul- 
minated in  a  crimson  sumach  growing  hard  by 
in  a  corner  of  a  rail  fence.  The  little  house 
was  still.  The  muffled  tread  of  his  horse's 
hoofs  in  the  deep,  dry  sand  did  not  rouse  the" 
sleeping  hounds  under  the  porch.  The  vines 
clambering  to  its  roof  were  full  of  tiny  yellow 
gourds  ;  he  could  see  through  the  gaps  Dorm- 
da's  spinning-wheel  against  the  wall.  A  hazy 
curl  of  smoke  wreathed  upward  from  the  chim- 
ney with  a  deliberate  grace  in  the  sunshine. 
He  smelled  the  warm  fragrance  of  the  apples  in 
the  orchard  at  the  rear,  stretching  along  the 
mountain  side.  The  corn  that  Dorinda  had 
ploughed  on  the  steep  slope  was  high,  and 
waved  above  the  staked  and  ridered  fence. 
There  were  wild  blue  morning-glories  among 
it,  the  blossoms  still  open  here  and  there  under 
a  sheltering  canopy  of  blades ;  and  there  were 
trumpet  flowers  too,  boldly  facing  the  blazing 
sun  with  a  beauty  as  ardent.  He  looked  up  at 
this  still  picture  more  than  once,  as  he  paused 
for  his  horse  to  drink  at  the  wayside  trough, 
and  then  he  rode  on  down  the  mountain,  specu- 
lating on  his  baffled  mission. 


232  THE  PROPHET  OF  THE 

He  hardly  knew  how  far  he  had  gone  when 
he  heard  voices  in  loud  altercation.  He  could 
not  give  immediate  attention,  for  he  was  in  a 
rocky  section  of  the  road,  so  full  of  bowlders  and 
outcropping  ledges  that  it  was  easy  to  divine 
that  the  overseer  had  a  lenient  interpretation  of 
the  idea  of  repair.  Once  his  horse  fell,  and  after 
pulling  the  animal  up,  with  an  oath  of  irrita- 
tion, he  came,  suddenly,  turning  sharply  around 
a  jutting  crag,  upon  another  rider  and  a  recalci- 
trant steed.  This  rider  was  a  child,  carried  on 
the  shoulders  of  a  girl  of  twelve  or  so,  who  had 
a  peculiarly  wiry  and  alert  appearance,  with 
long  legs,  a  precipitate  and  bounding  action,  a 
tousled  mane,  the  forelock  hanging  in  her  wild, 
excited  eyes.  He  recognized  at  once  the  filly- 
like  Miranda  Jane,  before  either  caught  a 
glimpse  of  him,  and  he  heard  enough  of  her 
remonstrance  to  acquaint  him  with  Jacob's  tyr- 
anny in  insisting  that  his  unshod  steed  should 
keep  straight  up  the  rocky  "  big  road,"  as  he 
ambitiously  called  it,  in  lieu  of  turning  aside  in 
the  sandy  by-ways  of  a  cow-path. 

The  expedient  flashed  through  Micajah 
Green's  mind  in  an  instant.  He  drew  up  his 
horse.  "  I  '11  give  ye  a  lift,  bubby,"  he  said ; 
then,  with  a  mighty  effort  at  recollection, 
"Howdy,  Mirandy  Jane  !  "  he  cried,  jubilantly. 
His  success  in  recalling  the  name  affected  him 
like  an  inspiration. 


GREAT  SMOKY  MOUNTAINS.  233 

The  girl  had  shied  off,  according  to  her  cus- 
tom, with  a  visible  tremor,  looking  at  him  with 
big  eyes  and  a  quivering  nostril,  instantly  ac- 
counting him  a  raider.  As  he  called  her  name 
she  stopped,  and  stared  dubiously  at  him. 

"  How  's  granny,"  he  asked  familiarly,  "  an' 
D'rindy  ?  " 

"  She  's  well,"  Miranda  Jane  returned,  lump- 
ing them  in  the  singular  number. 

Had  he  inquired  for  the  men  folks,  she  would 
have  been  alarmed.  As  it  was,  she  began  to 
be  at  ease.  She  could  not  at  once  remember 
him,  it  was  true,  but  he  was  evidently  a  fa- 
miliar of  the  family. 

44  Come,  bubby,"  he  said  to  Jacob,  who  had 
been  peering  over  Miranda  Jane's  head,  sharing 
her  doubts,  but  sturdily  repudiating  her  fears, 
44 1  '11  gin  ye  a  ride  ter  the  trough." 

Jacob  held  up  his  arms,  he  was  swung  to  the 
pommel,  and  the  cortege  started,  Miranda  Jane 
nimbly  following  in  the  rear. 

Such  simple  things  Jacob  said,  elicited  by 
questions  the  craft  of  which  he  could  not  divine. 
Where  had  he  been?  He  and  Mirandy  Jane 
had  gone  with  the  apples  in  the  wagon,  but  the 
wagon  had  afterward  been  driven  to  the  mill, 
and  Mirandy  Jane  had  been  charged  by  D'rindy 
to  "  tote  "  him  on  the  way  home  if  he  got  tired, 
and  Mirandy  Jane  wanted  to  tote  him  in  the 


234  THE  PROPHET  OF  THE 

cow-path,  'mongst  the  briers.  And  where  dicl 
he  say  he  went  with  the  apples  ?  To  the  cave, 

"  To  the  cave ! "  exclaimed  the  querist,  as- 
tonished. 

"Over  yander  on  the  backbone,"  returned 
the  guileless  Jacob,  reinforcing  the  information 
with  a  stubby  forefinger,  pointing  toward  the 
base  of  the  mountain. 

And  here  was  the  trough.  And  Miranda 
Jane  and  Jacob  stood  by  the  roadside  to  regret- 
fully watch  the  big  gray  horse  trot  slowly  away. 


GREAT  SMOKY  MOUNTAINS.  235 


XIII. 

THERE  came  a  change  in  the  weather.  A 
vagueness  fell  upon  the  landscape.  The  far- 
thest mountains  receded  into  invisibility,  and 
the  horizon  was  marked  by  an  outline  of  sum- 
mits hitherto  familiar  in  the  middle  distance. 
The  sunshine  was  languid,  slumberous.  A  haze 
clothed  the  air  in  a  splendid  garb  of  translu- 
cent, gold-tinted  folds,  and  trailing  across  the 
dim  blue  of  the  ranges  invested  them  with 
many  a  dreamy  illusion.  Athwart  the  sky  were 
long  sweeps  of  fibrous  white  clouds  presaging 
rain.  Since  dawn  they  were  thickening  ;  silent 
in  the  intense  stillness  of  the  noontide,  they  gath- 
ered and  overspread  the  heavens  and  quenched 
the  sun,  and  bereaved  the  vapors  hanging  in  the 
ravines  of  all  the  poetic  glamours  of  reflection. 
A  rain-crow  was  huskily  cawing  on  the  trough 
by  the  roadside  where  he  had  perched.  Do- 
rinda  heard  the  guttural  note,  and  went  out  to 
gather  up  the  fruit  spread  to  dry  on  boards  that 
were  stretched  from  stone  to  stone.  Dark 
clouds  were  rolling  up  from  the  west.  She 
paused  to  see  them  submerge  Chilhowee,  its 
outline  stark  and  hard  beneath  their  turbulent 


236  THE  PROPHET  OF  THE 

whirl ;  toward  the  south  their  heavy  folds  broke 
into  sudden  commotion,  and  they  were  torn  into 
fringes  as  the  rain  began  to  fall.  The  mist  fol- 
lowed and  isolated  the  Great  Smoky  from  all 
the  rest  of  the  world. 

And  now  the  little  house  was  as  lonely  as  the 
ark  on  Ararat.  The  mists  possessed  the  uni- 
verse. They  filled  the  forests  and  lay  upon  the 
corn  and  hid  the  "  gyarden-spot,"  and  came 
skulking  about  the  porch,  peering  through  the 
vines  in  a  ghostly  fashion.  Presently  they 
sifted  through,  and  whenever  the  door  was 
opened  it  showed  them  lurking  there  as  if  wist- 
fully waiting  or  with  some  half  humanized  cu- 
riosity. Night  stole  on,  and  the  ruddy  flare  of 
the  fire  had  heightened  suggestions  of  good 
cheer  and  comfort,  because  of  these  waifs  of 
the  rain  and  the  air  shivering  in  chilly  guise 
about  the  door.  The  men  came  to  supper  and 
all  went  again,  except  Pete.  He  was  ailing,  he 
declared,  and  betook  himself  to  bed  betimes. 
The  house  grew  quiet.  The  grandmother  nod- 
ded over  her  knitting,  with  a  limp  falling  of  the 
lower  jaw,  occasional  spasmodic  gestures,  and 
an  absorbed,  unfamiliar  expression  of  counte- 
nance. Dorinda  in  her  low  chair  sat  in  the 
glow  of  the  fire.  As  it  rose  and  fell  it  cast  a 
warm  light  or  a  dreamy  shadow  on  her  deli- 
cately rounded  cheek  and  her  shining  eyes.  One 


GREAT  8MOKY  MOUNTAINS.  237 

disheveled  tress  of  her  dense  black  hair  fell  over 
the  red  kerchief  twisted  around  her  neck.  Her 
blue  homespun  dress  lay  in  lustreless  folds  about 
her.  The  shadowy  and  rude  interior  of  the 
room  —  the  dark  brown  of  the  logs  of  the  wall 
and  the  intervening  yellow  clay  daubing ;  the 
great  clumsy  warping-bars  ;  the  pendent  peltry 
and  pop-corn  and  strings  of  red  pepper  swaying 
from  the  rafters  ;  the  puncheon  floor  gilded  by 
the  firelight ;  the  deep  yawning  chimney  with 
its  heaps  of  ashes  and  its  pulsating  coals  — 
all  formed  in  the  rich  colors  and  soft  blend- 
ing of  detail  an  harmonious  setting  for  her 
vivid,  definite  face,  as  she  settled  herself  to 
work  at  her  evening  "stent."  Her  reel  was 
before  her ;  the  spokes,  worn  smooth  and  dark 
and  glossy  by  age  and  use,  reflected  with  pol- 
ished lustre  the  glimmer  of  the  fire.  She  had 
a  broche  in  her  hand,  just  taken  from  the  spin- 
dle. For  the  lack  of  the  more  modern  broche- 
holder  she  thrust  a  stick  through  the  tunnel  of 
the  shuck  on  which  the  yarn  was  wound,  placing 
the  end  of  it,  to  hold  it  steady,  in  her  low  shoe ; 
catching  the  thread  between  her  deft  fingers  she 
threw  it  with  a  fine  free  gesture  over  the  per- 
iphery of  the  reel.  And  then  the  whirling 
spokes  were  only  a  rayonnant  suggestion,  so 
swiftly  they  sped  round  and  round  in  the  light 
of  the  fire,  and  a  musical  low  whir  broke  forth. 


238  TEE  PROPHET  OF  THE 

Now  and  then  the  reel  ticked  and  told  off  an- 
other cut,  and  she  would  bend  forward  to  tie 
the  thread  with  a  practiced,  dextrous  hand. 

The  downpour  of  the  rain  had  a  dreary,  mel- 
ancholy persistence,  beating  upon  the  roof  and 
splashing  from  the  eaves  into  the  puddles  be- 
neath. At  intervals  a  drop  fell  down  the  wide 
chimney  and  hissed  upon  the  coals. 

Suddenly  there  was  another  splash,  differing 
in  its  abrupt  energy  ;  a  foot  had  slipped  outside 
and  groping  hands  were  laid  upon  the  wall. 
Dorinda  sprang  up  with  a  white  face  and  tense 
muscles.  The  old  woman  was  suddenly  bolt 
upright  in  her  corner,  although  not  recognizing 
the  sound. 

"  Hurry  'long,  D'rindy,"  she  said,  peremp- 
torily, "  you-uns  ain't  goin'  ter  reel  a  hank  ef 
ye  don't  inosey.  What  ails  the  gal  ? "  she 
broke  off,  her  attention  attracted  to  her  grand- 
daughter's changed  expression. 

"  Thar 's  suthin'  out  o'  doors,"  said  Dorinda, 
in  a  tremulous  whisper.  "I  hearn  'em  step 
whenst  ye  war  asleep." 

"  I  ain't  batted  my  eye  this  night,"  said  her 
grandmother,  with  the  force  of  conviction.  "  I 
ain't  slep'  a  wink.  An'  ye  never  hearn  nuth- 
inV 

There  was  a  bolder  demonstration  outside; 
a  foot-fall  sounded  on  the  porch  and  a  hand 
tried  the  latch. 


GREAT  SMOKY  MOUNTAINS.  239 

"  Massy  on  us  !  Raiders  !  "  shrieked  the  old 
woman,  rising  precipitately,  her  knitting  falling 
from  her  lap,  the  ball  of  yarn  rolling  away  and 
the  kitten  springing  after  it. 

Dorinda  ran  to  the  door  —  perhaps  to  put  up 
the  bar.  But  with  sudden  courage  she  lifted 
the  latch.  Outside  were  the  ghostly  vapors, 
white  and  visible  in  the  light  from  within.  She 
peered  out  doubtfully  for  a  moment.  A  sudden 
rush  of  color  surged  into  her  face  ;  she  made  a 
feint  of  closing  the  door  and  ran  back  to  her 
work,  looking  over  her  shoulder  with  radiant 
eyes ;  she  caught  up  the  broche,  sticking  it 
deftly  in  her  shoe,  seated  herself  in  her  low 
chair,  and  with  her  light  free  gesture  led  the 
thread  over  the  reel. 

"  Massy  on  us ! "  shrilled  the  old  woman 
aghast.  "  D'rindy,  shet  the  door !  Be  ye  a-let- 
tin'  the  lawless  ones  in  on  us !  raiders  an'  sech, 
scoutin'  'roun'  in  the  fog  —  an'  nobody  hyar 
but  Pete,  ez  could  n't  be  waked  up  right  handy 
with  nuthin'  more  wholesome  'n  a  bullet  — 
a"  — 

There  was  a  man's  figure  in  the  doorway  —  a 
slow,  hesitating  figure,  and  Rick  Tyler,  his  face 
grave  and  dubious,  embarrassed  by  the  compli- 
cated effort  to  look  at  Dorinda  and  yet  seem  to 
ignore  her,  trod  heavily  in,  and  with  a  soft  and 
circumspect  manner  closed  the  door. 


240  THE  PROPHET  OF  TEE 

"  I  kem  over  hyar,  Mis'  Cayce,"  he  remarked, 
"  ez  I  'lowed  mebbe  the  boys  war  at  the  still 
an  'ye  felt  lonesome,  bein'  ez  it  air  rainin'  right 
smart,  an'  "  —  he  hesitated. 

"  Howdy,  Rick  —  howdy  !  "  she  exclaimed, 
cordially.  He  had  the  benefit  of  her  relief  in 
finding  the  visitor  not  a  raider.  "  Jes'  sot  yer 
bones  down  hyar  by  the  fire.  Airish  out  o' 
doors,  ain't  it?  I'm  powerful  glad  ter  see  ye. 
D'rindy  ain't  much  company  when  she  air  busy, 
an'  the  weavin'  ain't  done  yit." 

"  I  'lowed  ez  I  mought  resk  comin'  up  hyar 
wunst  in  a  while  now,"  he  said,  with  a  covert 
glance  at  Dorinda.  "  I  ain't  keerin'  much  fur 
the  new  sher'ff,  'kase  he  air  a  town  man,  an' 
don't  know  me ;  an'  the  new  constable,^ie 
'lowed  over  yander  ter  the  store  ez  he  war  a 
off'cer  o'  the  law,  an'  not  a  shootin'  mark  fur 
folks  ez  war  minded  ter  hide  out;  an'  Gid 
Fletcher  hev  been"  told  ez  he  'd  hev  others  ter 
deal  with  ef  he  ondertook  ter  fool  along  ar- 
restin'  me  agin.  So  I  hev  got  no  call  ter  stay 
ez  close  in  the  bresh  ez  I  hev  been,  though  I 
ain't  a-goin'  ter  furgit  these  hyar  consarns, 
nuther." 

He  glanced  down  at  the  glimmer  of  steel  in 
his  belt,  where  Dorinda  recognized  her  father's 
pistols. 

"  Bes'  be  on   the  safe   side,"   said  the   old 


GREAT  SMOKY  MOUNTAINS.  241 

woman  approvingly,  her  nimble  needles  quiver- 
ing in  the  light.  "  But  law  !  I  useter  know  a 
man  over  yander  on  Chilhowee  Mounting,  whar 
I  lived  afore  I  war  married,  an'  he  hed  killed 
fower  men,  —  though  I  b'lieve  one  o'  'em  war  a 
Injun,  —  an'  he  hed  no  call  ter  aggervate  hisself 
with  sher'ffs'  nor  shoo  tin '-irons,  nuther.  He 
walked  'round  ez  favored  an'  free  ez  ray  old 
tur-r-key  gobbler.  Though  some  said  he  hed 
bad  dreams.  But  ez  he  war  a  hearty  feeder 
they  mought  hev  kem  from  the  stummick  stid- 
dier  the  heart." 

The  young  man  listened  with  a  doubtful 
mien.  He  was  thrown  back  at  his  ease  in  the 
splint-bottomed  chair.  One  stalwart  leg,  the 
boot  reaching  over  his  trousers  to  the  knee, 
was  stretched  out  to  the  fire  ;  from  the  damp 
sole  the  steam  was  starting  in  the  warm  air. 
On  his  other  knee  one  of  the  shooting  irons  in 
question  rested;  he  held  it  lightly  with  one 
hand.  The  other  hand  was  thrust  into  the  belt 
that  girded  his  brown  jeans  coat.  His  tawny 
yellow  hair,  the  ends  of  a  deeper  tint,  being 
wet,  hung  to  his  coat  collar.  His  hat,  from  the 
broad  brim  of  which  rain-drops  were  still  trick- 
ling, was  deposited  beneath  the  chair,  and  the 
kitten  was  investigating  it  with  a  dainty,  scorn- 
ful white  mitten.  He  bore  the  marks  of  his 
trials  in  his  sharpened  features ;  his  face  took 

16 


242  THE  PROPHET  OF  THE 

on  readily  a  lowering  expression,  and  a  touch 
of  anger  kindled  the  smouldering  fire  in  his 
brown  eyes. 

"But  I  hev  killed  no  man,"  he  said,  with 
emphasis.  "  I  hev  hurt  nobody.  Ef  I  hed, 
't  would  n't  be  no  more  'n  I  oughter  do  ter 
g'long  with  the  sher'ff  an'  leave  it  ter  men. 
But  I  ain't  done  no  harm.  An'  I  don't  want 
ter  stay  in  jail,  an'  be  tried,  an'  kem  ter  jedg- 
mirit,  an'  sech,  an'  mebbe  hev  them  buzzardy 
lawyers  fix  suthin'  on  me  ennyways." 

All  through  this  speech  the  old  woman  tried 
to  interrupt. 

"  Laws-a-massy,  Rick,"  she  said  at  length, 
"ye  hev  got  mighty  tetchy  sence  ye  hev  been 
hid  out.  I  ain't  sayin'  nuthin'  agin  you-uns,  ez 
I  knows  on  —  nor  agin  that  man  that  lived  on 
Chilhowee  Mounting,  nuther.  I  can't  sot  my- 
self ter  jedge  o'  him.  He  war  a  perfessin'  mem- 
ber, an'  he  hed  a  powerful  gift  in  'quirin' ;  useter 
raise  the  chune  reg'lar  at  all  the  meetin's  ez  fur 
back  ez  I  kin  remember." 

Her  interest  in  the  visit  was  impaired  to  some 
degree  by  this  collision  ;  she  would  have  rejoiced 
to  express  her  mental  estimate  of  Rick  as  the 
"headin'-est  critter  in  the  kentry,"  but  her 
hospitable  instincts  constrained  her,  and  she 
nobly  swallowed  her  vexation.  His  presence, 
however,  "  hectored  "  her,  and  she  seized  an  ex- 


GREAT  SMOKY  MOUNTAINS.  243 

cuse  to  absent  herself  presently,  saying  that  she 
had  to  get  her  clean  plaid  coat  to  mend,  "  bein' 
ez  when  it  last  hung  on  the  clothes-line  that 
thar  fresky  young  hound  named  Rose  stood  on 
his  hind  legs  ter  gnaw  it,  an'  actially  chawed  a 
piece  out'n  it,  an'  I  hev  ter  put  a  wedge  in  it 
afore  I  kin  wear  it." 

She  creaked  away  into  the  next  room,  and  as 
the  door  shut  he  turned  his x  eyes  for  the  first 
time  on  Dorinda.  The  fire-light  played  on  the 
reel,  whirling  in  a  lustrous  circle  before  her,  on 
the  broche  stuck  in  the  rough  little  shoe,  on  her 
arm,  uplifted  in  a  graceful  curve  as  she  held  the 
thread.  Her  brilliant  eyes  were  grave  and  in- 
tent ;  her  dense  black  hair  and  her  dark  blue 
dress  heightened  the  fairness  of  her  face,  and 
the  crimson  kerchief  about  her  throat  was 
hardly  more  vivid  than  the  flush  on  her  cheeks. 

The  knowledge  that  her  embarrassment  was 
greater  than  his  own  made  him  bolder.  They 
sat,  however,  some  time  in  silence.  Then,  his 
heart  waxing  soft  in  the  coveted  domestic 
atmosphere  and  the  contemplation  of  the  pic- 
ture before  him,  he  said,  gently,  — 

"  They  air  all  agin  me,  D'rindy." 

She  forgot  herself  instantly.  She  looked  full 
at  him  with  soft  melancholy  deprecation. 

"  They  don't  hender  ye  none,"  she  said. 

"  Ye  don't  sot  no  store  by  me  nuther,  these 


244  THE  PROPHET  OF  THE 

days,  D'rindy,"  he  went  on,  with  a  thrill  of 
elation  in  his  heart  belying  the  doubt  and  de- 
spair in  his  speech. 

The  reel  ticked  and  told  off  another  cut.  She 
leaned  forward  to  tie  the  thread.  She  could 
not  lift  her  eyelids  now ;  still  he  saw  the  vivid 
sapphire  iris,  half  eclipsed  by  the  long  black 
lash. 

He  patted  the  pistol  on  his  knee. 

"  Would  ye  be  afeard,  D'rindy,  ter  marry  a 
man  ez  would  hev  ter  keep  his  life,  and  yourn, 
mebbe,  with  this  pistol  ?  Would  ye  be  afeard 
ter  live  in  his  house  along  o'  him,  a  hunted  crit- 
ter,—  an'  set  an'  sing  in  his  door,  when  the 
muzzle  of  a  rifle  or  the  sher'ffs  revolver  mought 
peek  through  the  rails  of  the  fence  ?  Would  ye 
be  afeard?" 

He  put  the  weapon  slowly  into  his  belt. 
"  Would  ye  be  afeard  ?  "  he  reiterated. 

The  reel  stopped.  She  turned  her  eyes,  di- 
lated with  a  splendid  boldness,  full  upon  him. 
How  they  flouted  fear  ! 

Such  audacity  ,of  courage  seemed  to  him  gal- 
lant in  a  man ;  in  a  woman,  expressing  faith  in 
his  valiance,  it  was  enchanting.  He  lost  his 
slow  decorum.  He  caught  the  hand  that  held 
the  thread.  She  could  not  withdraw  it  from 
that  strong  ecstatic  clutch,  and  as  she  started, 
protesting,  to  her  feet,  he  rose  too,  overturning 


GREAT  SMOKY  MOUNTAINS.  245 

the  reel ;  and  the  kitten  made  merry  confusion 
in  the  methodical  cuts. 

"D'rindy,"  he  exclaimed,  catching  her  in  his 
arms,  "  thar  ain't  no  need  ter  be  afeard !  Word 
kem  up  the  mounting  —  I  got  it  from  Steve 
Byers  —  ez  when  Abednego  Tynes  war  tried 
he  plead  guilty,  an'  axed  ter  go  on  the  stand 
an'  make  a  statement.  An'  he  told  the  truth 
at  last  —  at  last!  An'  he  war  sentenced,  an* 
the  case  war  nolle  prosequied  agin  me !  An'  ye 
war  n't  afeard !  Ye  would  hev  married  me  an' 
resked  it.  Ye  war  n't  afeard  !  " 

She  was  tall,  and  her  agitated  upturned  face 
was  close  to  his  shoulder.  He  knew  it  was 
simply  unpardonable,  according  to  the  rigid 
decorums  of  their  code  of  manners,  but  the  im- 
petuosity of  his  joy  overbore  him,  and  he  bent 
down  and  kissed  her  lips. 

Dorinda's  courage  !  —  it  was  gone.  She 
looked  so  frightened  and  amazed  that  he  re- 
laxed his  clasp.  "  Ye  know,  D'rindy,"  he  said, 
apologetically,  "  I  'm  fairly  out'n  my  head  with 

joy." 

She  stood  trembling,  her  hand  pressed  to  her 
beating  heart,  her  head  whirling.  And  then, 
he  never  forgot  it,  of  her  own  accord  she  laid 
her  other  hand  on  his  breast.  "  I  always  be- 
lieved ye  war  good,  good,  good!" 

And  the  wild  winds  whirled  around  the  Great 


246  THE  PROPHET  OF  THE 

Smoky,  and  the  world  was  given  over  to  the 
clouds  and  the  night,  and  the  rain  fell,  and  the 
drops  splashed  with  a  dreary  sound  down  from 
the  eaves  of  the  house. 

They  did  not  hear.  How  little  they  heeded  . 
Within,  all  the  atmosphere  was  suffused  by 
that  wonderful  irradiation  of  love,  and  happi- 
ness, and  hope  that  was  confidence.  The  fire 
might  flare  if  it  listed.  The  shadows  might 
flicker  if  they  would.  It  seemed  to  them  at  the 
moment  each  would  never  see  aught,  care  for 
aught,  save  what  was  expressed  in  the  other's 
eyes. 

The  kitten  had  waxed  riotous  in  the  unpre- 
cedented opportunities  of  the  reel,  still  lying 
with  all  its  tangled  yellow  yarn  upon  the  floor. 
As  it  sprang  tigerishly  in  the  air  and  fell,  fix- 
ing its  predatory  claws  in  another  cut,  Dorinda 
looked  down  with  a  startled  air. 

"  Granny  '11  be  axin'  mighty  p'inted  how 
that  thar  spun-truck  kem  ter  be  twisted  so," 
she  said,  crestfallen  and  prescient.  "  It  looks 
like  a  hurrah's  nest." 

"  Tell  her  ez  how  't  war  the  cat,"  said  Rick. 

Dorinda  shook  her  head  dubiously. 

"  The  cat  could  n't  hev  got  it  ef  the  reel 
hed  n't  been  flunged  on  the  floor." 

"  Let 's  wind  it  inter  balls,  then,"  suggested 
Rick,  quick  at  expedients.  "  She  '11  never  know 
it  war  tangled.  I  '11  hold  it  fur  ye." 


GREAT  SMOKY  MOUNTAINS.  247 

It  was  no  great  hardship  for  Rick.  She 
lightly  slipped  the  skeins  over  the  wrists  that 
had  known  sterner  shackles.  The  task  required 
her  to  sit  near  him  ;  her  face  and  head  were 
bent  toward  him  as  she  absorbed  herself  in  the 
effort  to  find  the  end  of  the  thread  ;  sometimes 
she  lifted  her  eyes  and  looked  radiantly  at  him. 
He  had  not  known  how  beautiful  she  was,  — 
because  he  saw  her  face  more  closely,  he  thought, 
not  averted,  nor  coy,  as  always  before,  —  or 
was  it  embellished  by  that  ineffable  joy  that 
filled  her  heart  ?  Well  for  them  both,  perhaps, 
that  those  few  moments  were  so  happy,  —  or 
is  it  well  to  remember  a  supreme  felicity,  for 
this  is  fleeting.  Yellow  yarn  !  she  was  winding 
threads  of  gold.  How  his  pulses  thrilled  at 
the  lightest  flying  touch  of  her  fleet  hands! 
He  looked  at  her,  —  into  her  eyes  if  he  might, 
—  at  her  round  crimson  cheek,  at  her  clearly 
cut  chin,  at  the  long  lashes,  at  the  black  hair 
drawn  back  from  her  brow,  where  a  curling 
tendril  drooped  over  the  temple.  And  he  held 
the  yarn  all  awry. 

It  was  no  first-class  job,  for  this  reason  and 
her  haste. 

"  What  ails  ye  ter  hustle  'long  so,  D'rindy  ?  " 
he  asked  at  last.  "  Ye  ain't  so  mighty  afeard 
o'  yer  granny." 

"  Naw,"   Dorinda   admitted,    "  but  brother 


248  THE  PROPHET  OF  THE 

Pete,  he  be  at  home  ter-night,  an*  he  air  toler'- 
ble  fractious  ef  he  sees  his  chance,  an'  I  don't 
want  him  a-laffin'  at  we-uns  ;  kase  I  hev  hearn 
him  say  ez  when  young  folks  gits  ter  windin' 
yarn  tergether  't  ain't  fur  love  o'  the  spun- 
truck,  but  jes'  fur  one  another." 

Rick  laughed  a  little,  slowly.  Then  growing 
grave,  "  Ef  ye  '11  b'lieve  me,  Pete  told  the  word 
yander  ter  the  still  ez  Amos  Jeemes  —  a  mis'a- 
ble  addled  aig  he  be  !  —  'lowed  ter  the  men  at 
the  mill  ez  he  b'lieved  ez 't  war  the  Cayces  ez 
rescued  me,  the  day  o'  the  gaynder-pullin',  from 
the  sher'ff." 

She  paused,  the  bright  thread  in  her  motion- 
less hand,  her  fire-lit  face  bent  upon  him. 

"Amos  Jeemes  hed  better  be  keerful  how  he 
tries  ter  fix  it  on  we-uns  !  "  she  cried,  with  the 
tense  vibration  of  anger,  "  tellin'  the  mill  an' 
sech  !  I  hev  hearn  the  boys  'low  ez  't  war  ten 
year  in  the  pen'tiary  fur  rescuing  a  man  from 
the  sher'ff,  ef  it  got  fund  out." 

"  Pete  say  ez  how  he  jes'  laffed  at  him  an' 
named  him  a  fool." 

"  Pete  air  ekal  ter  that,"  she  returned,  with 
some  sarcasm. 

She  was  deftly  winding  the  yarn  once  more, 
the  fire  showing  a  deeper  thoughtfulness  upon 
her  face.  Its  flicker  gave  the  room  a  sense  of 
motion  ;  the  festoons  of  scarlet  pepper-pods,  the 


GREAT  SMOKY  MOUNTAINS.  249 

long  yellow  and  red  strings  of  pop-corn,  the 
peltry  hanging  from  the  rafters,  apparently 
swayed  as  the  light  rose  and  fell ;  and  the 
warping-bars,  with  their  rainbow  of  spun-truck 
stretched  from  peg  to  peg,  seemed  to  be  dan- 
cing a  clumsy  measure  in  the  corner.  The  rock- 
ing-chair where  granny  was  wont  to  sit  was  oc- 
cupied now  by  a  shadow,  and  now  was  visibly 
vacant. 

She  looked  up  into  his  face  with  an  absorbed 
unnoting  eye.  He  was  pierced  by  the  knowl- 
edge that  though  she  saw  him,  she  was  thinking 
of  something  else. 

"  Won't  the  Court  let  the  pa'son  go  free  now, 
sence  they  know  ye  done  no  crime  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  Naw.  The  pa'son  air  accused  of  a  rescue, 
an'  whether  the  man  he  rescued  air  convicted 
or  no  it  air  jes'  the  same  ter  the  law  ez  agin 
him.  The  rescue  air  the  thing  he  hev  got  ter 
answer  fur." 

She  dropped  her  hands  in  her  lap  and  threw 
herself  back  in  her  chair. 

"  Ten  year  in  prison  ! "  she  exclaimed.  Her 
face  was  all  the  tenderest  pity  ;  her  voice  was 
full  of  yearning  sympathy  ;  she  cast  her  eyes 
upward  with  a  look  that  was  reverence  itself. 

"  How  good  he  war  !  I  s'pose  he  knowed  ye 
never  done  no  harm,  an'  he  war  willin'  ter  suf- 
fer stiddier  you-uns.  I  never  hearn  o'  sech  a 


250  THE  PROPHET  OF  THE 

man  !  'Pears  ter  me  them  old  prophets  don't 
tech  him !  I  never  hearn  o'  them  showin'  sech 
love  o'  God  an'  thar  feller-man.  He  rescued  ye 
jes'  fur  that !  " 

Rick  Tyler  looked  at  her  for  a  moment  with 
a  kindling  eye.  He  sprang  to  his  feet,  throw- 
ing the  golden  skein  —  it  was  only  yarn  after 
all,  a  coarse  yellow  yarn  —  upon  the  floor.  He 
strode  across  the  rude  hearth  and  leaned  against 
the  mantel-piece,  which  was  as  high  as  his  head. 
The  light  fell  upon  his  changed  face,  the  weap- 
ons in  his  belt,  his  long  tawny  hair,  the  flashing 
fire  in  his  eye.  He  raised  his  right  hand  with 
an  importunate  gesture. 

"D'rindy  Cayce,  ye  air  in  love  with  that 
man !  "  he  said,  in  a  low  passionate  voice  and 
between  his  set  teeth.  "  I  hev  seen  it  afore  — 
long  ago  ;  but  sence  ye  hev  promised  ter  marry 
me,  ef  ye  say  his  name  agin,  I  '11  kill  him  —  I  '11 
shoot  him  through  the  heart  —  dead  —  dead  — 
do  ye  hear  me  —  dead  !  " 

She  was  shaken  by  the  spectacle  of  his  sud- 
den anger,  and  she  was  angered  in  turn  by  his 
jealous  rage.  There  was  a  dull  aching  in  her 
heart  in  the  voids  left  by  the  ebbing  of  her 
ecstatic  happiness.  This  was  too  precious  to 
lightly  let  go.  She  walked  over  to  him  and  took 
hold  of  his  right  arm,  although  his  hand  was 
toying  nervously  with  his  pistol. 


GREAT  SMOKY  MOUNTAINS.  251 

"  Ye  don't  b'lieve  no  sech  word,  Rick,"  she 
said,  "  deep  down  in  yer  heart,  ye  don't  b'lieve 
it.  An'  how  kin  ye  grudge  me  from  thinkin' 
well  o'  the  man,  an'  feelin'  frien'ly,  —  oh,  mighty 
frien'ly,  —  when  he  will  hev  ter  take  ten  year 
in  the  pen'tiary  fur  givin'  ye  yer  freedom  ?  He 
rescued  ye !  An'  I  '11  thank  him  an'  -praise 
him  fur  it  ev'y  day  I  live.  My  love,  ef  ye  call 
it  love,  will  foller  him  fur  that  all  through  the 
prison,  an'  the  bolts  an'  bars,  an'  gyards.  An' 
yer  pistols  can't  holp  it." 

He  put  her  from  him  with  a  mechanical  ges- 
ture and  a  perplexed  brow.  He  sat  down  in 
the  chair  he  had  occupied  at  first ;  his  hat  was 
still  under  it,  one  leg  was  stretched  out  to  the 
fire,  on  the  other  knee  his  hand  rested;  he 
looked  exactly  as  when  he  first  came  into  the 
room,  but  she  had  a  vague  idea,  as  she  stood 
opposite  on  the  hearth,  that  it  was  long  ago, 
so  much  had  happened  since. 

"  D'rindy,"  he  said,  "he  never  done  it.  The 
pa'son  never  rescued  me." 

She  stood  staring  at  him  in  wide-eyed  amaze. 

He  was  sileift  for  a  moment,  and  then  he 
broke  into  a  bitter  laugh.  "I  do  declar,"  he 
said,  "  it  fairly  tickles  me  ter  hear  o*  one  man 
bein'  arrested  fur  rescuin'  me,  an'  another  set 
bein'  s'pected  o'  the  same  thing,  when  not  one 
of  'em  in  all  the  Big  Smoky,  not  one,  lifted  a 


252  THE  PROPHET  OF   THE 

hand  ter  holp  me.  Whether  the  gallus  or  a 
life  sentence,  't  war  all  the  same  ter  them. 
Accusin'  yer  dad  an'  the  boys  at  the  still  — 
shucks !  Old  Groundhog  loant  me  a  rifle,  an' 
ter  hear  him  talk  saaft  sawder  'bout'n  it  ter 
Amos  Jeemes  ye'd  hev  thunk  he  war  the  author 
o'  my  salvation !  An'  arrest  the  pa'son !  he 
war  a  likely  one  ter  rescue  a-body !  —  too  'feard 
o'  Satan !  An'  ef  all  they  say  air  true  'bout'n 
the  word  he  spoke  yander  at  the  meetin'  'fore 
they  tuk  him  off,  he  hev  got  cornsider'ble  call 
ter  be  afeard  o'  Satan.  Naw,  sir !  he  never 
rescued  nuthin'  but  the  gaynder!  Nobody 
holped  me !  Nobody  on  the  Big  Smoky  held 
out  a  hand !  I  ain't  goin'  ter  f urgit  it,  nuther ! " 
She  stood  looking  intently  at  his  face,  with 
its  caustic  laugh  upon  it  and  his  eyes  full  of 
bitterness.  She  knew  that  he  secretly  upbraided 
her  as  well  as  her  people  that  they  had  made 
no  move  to  save  him  from  the  clutches  of  the 
sheriff.  She  involuntarily  turned  her  eyes  to 
the  gun-rack  where  the  barrel  of  "  Old  Betsy  " 
gleamed,  and  she  remembered  the  mark  it  bore 
to  commemorate  the  foregone  conclusion  of  Mi- 
cajah  Green's  death.  For  this  she  had  held 
her  hand.  She  felt  humble  and  guilty,  since 
she  had  acted  in  the  interests  of  peace.  And 
yet  that  shrewd  sense,  that  true  conscience, 
which  coexisted  with  the  idealistic  tendencies 


GREAT  SMOKY  MOUNTAINS.  253 

of  her  nature,  demanded  how  could  she  justify 
herself  in  asking  the  sacrifice  of  ten  years  of 
other  men's  liberty  that  her  lover  might  escape 
the  consequences  of  his  own  act;  how  could 
she  dare  to  precipitate  a  collision  with  the 
sheriff,  while  their  grievance  was  still  fresh  in 
their  minds  ?  Fortunately  she  did  not  lay  this 
train  of  thought  bare  before  Rick  Tyler,  Na- 
tures like  his  foster  craft  in  the  most  pellucid 
candor. 

"How'd  ye  git  away,  Rick?"  she  said  in- 
stead. 

"I  won't  tell  ye,"  he  replied,  rudely;  "it 
don't  consarn  ye  ter  know."  Then  suddenly 
softening,  "  I  take  that  back,  D'rindy.  I  ain't 
goin'  ter  furgit  ez  ye  owned  up  ye  war  willin' 
ter  marry  me  an'  live  all  yer  life  along  with  a 
hunted  man  in  a  house  that  mought  be  fired 
over  yer  head  enny  time,  or  a  rifle  ball  whiz  in 
at  the  winder.  I  ain't  goin'  ter  furgit  that." 

Alas !  he  could  not  divine  how  he  should  re- 
member it ! 

He  fixed  his  eyes  on  the  fire,  as  if  moodily 
recalling  the  scene.  She  noted  that  desperate 
hunted  look  in  his  face  which  it  had  not  worn 
to-night. 

"I  war  a-settin'  thar,"  he  began  abruptly, 
"  my  feet  tied  with  ropes,  and  with  handcuffs 
on,"  —  he  held  his  hands  together  as  if  raana- 


254  THE  PROPHET  OF  THE' 

cled;  she  shuddered  a  little,  —  "  an'  I  hearn  the 
hurrahin'  an'  fuss  outside  whilst  they  was  all 
a-rowin'  over  the  gaynder.  An'  then  I  hearn 
a  powerful  commotion  'mongst  the  dogs,  ez  ef 
they  hed  started  some  sorter  game  or  suthin'. 
An'  the  fust  I  knowed  thar  war  a  powerful 
scuttlin'  'round  the  back  o'  the  blacksmith's 
shop,  an'  a  rabbit  squez  in  a  hole  'twixt  the 
lowes'  log  an'  the  groun',  —  't  warn't  bigger  'n 
a  gopher's  hole.  An'  I  never  thunk  nuthin' 
'ceptin'  them  boys  outside  would  be  mighty 
mad  ef  they  knowed  thar  hounds  hed  run  a 
rabbit  same  ez  a  deer." 

Dorinda  had  sunk  into  her  chair ;  her  hands 
trembled,  her  face  was  pale. 

"  An'  the  cur'ous  part  of  it,"  he  continued, 
now  in  the  full  swing  of  narrative,  "  war  that 
the  hounds  would  n't  gin  it  up.  They  jes'  kep' 
a-nosin'  an'  yappin'  roun'  that  thar  little  hole. 
Thar  sot  the  rabbit  —  she  'minded  me  o'  myself, 
got  in  an'  could  n't  git  out.  Thar  war  nowhar 
else  fur  her  ter  sneak  through.  She  sot  thar 
ez  upright  an'  trembly  ez  me ;  jes'  ez  skeered, 
an'  jes'  about  ez  little  chance.  The  only  dif- 
f'ence  'twixt  us  war  I  hed  a  soul,  an'  that  did  n't 
do  me  enny  good,  an'  the  lack  o'  it  did  n't  do 
her  enny  harm ;  both  o'  we-uns  war  more  per- 
tic'lar  'bout  keepin'  a  skin  full  o'  whole  bones  'n 
ennything  else.  An'  then  them  nosin'  hounds 


GREAT  SMOKY  MOUNTAINS.  255 

began  ter  scratch  an'  claw  up  dirt.  Bless  yer 
soul,  D'rindy,  they  hed  a  hole  ez  big  ez  that 
thar  piggin,  afore  I  thunk  ennything  'bout'n  it. 
It  makes  me  feel  the  cold  shakes  when  I  'mem- 
bers ez  I  mought  not  hev  thunk  'bout'n  it  till 
't  war  too  late.  Lord  !  how  slow  them  hounds 
seemed !  though  the  rabbit  she  fund  'em  fast 
enough,  I  reckon.  Ev'y  now  an'  then  she  'd  hop 
along  this  way  an'  that,  an'  the  hounds  would 
git  her  scent  agin  —  an'  the  way  they  'd  yap  ! 
The  critter  would  hop  along  an'  look  up  at  me, 
—  I  never  will  furgit  the  look  in  the  critter's 
eyes  ez  she  sot  thar  an'  waited  fur  the  dogs. 
They  war  in  a  hurry  an'  toler'ble  lively,  I 
reckon,  but  they  'peared  ter  me  ez  slow  ez  ef 
ev'y  one  war  weighted  with  a  block  an'  chain. 
Waal,  the  hole  got  bigger  an'  they  yapped 
louder,  an'  I  got  so  weak  waitin',  an'  fearin' 
somebody  would  hear  'em,  an'  kern  ter  see  'bout 
what  they  hed  got  up  fur  game,  an'  find  that 
hole,  I  did  n't  know  how  I  could  bide  it.  The 
hole  got  big  enough  fur  the  hounds  ter  squeeze 
through,  an'  hyar  they  kem  bouncin'  in.  They 
lept  round  the  shop,  an'  flopped  up  agin  the 
door,  so  that  ef  thar  hed  n't  been  all  that  fuss 
outside  'bout  takin'  the  gaynder  down,  some- 
body would  hev  been  boun'  ter  notice  it.  I  hed 
ter  wait  fur  the  dogs  ter  ketch  the  rabbit  an' 
shake  the  life  out'n  her  'fore  I  darst  move  a 


256  THE  PROPHET  OF  THE 

paig,  they  kep'  up  sech  a  commotion.  An'  when 
they  bed  dragged  the  critter's  little  carcass  out- 
side an'  begun  fightin'  over  it,  I  got  up.  I  jes' 
could  sheffle  along  a  leetle  bit ;  that  eternally 
cussed  scoundrel,  Gid  Fletcher"  —  he  paused. 
It  was  beyond  the  power  of  language  to  express 
the  deep  damnation  he  desired  for  the  black- 
smith. His  face  grew  scarlet,  the  tears  started 
to  his  angry  eyes.  How  he  pitied  himself,  re- 
membering his  hard  straits  and  his  cruel  indig- 
nities !  And  how  she  pitied  him  ! 

He  caught  his  breath,  and  went  on. 

"  That  black-hearted  devil  hed  tied  my  feet 
so  close  I  could  scarcely  hobble,  an'  my  hands 
an'  wrists  hed  all  puffed  an'  swelled  up,  whar 
the  cords  hed  been  —  'twar  the  sher'ff  ez  gin 
me  the  handcuffs.  Waal,  I  tuk  steps  'bout  two 
inches  long  till  I  got  'crost  the  shop  ter  the 
hole.  Then  I  jes'  flopped  down  an'  croped 
through.  I  didn't  stan'  up  outside,  though 
't  war  at  the  back  o'  the  shop  an'  nobody  could 
see  me.  Ye  know  the  aidge  o'  the  bluff  ain't 
five  feet  from  the  shop ;  the  cliff 's  ez  sheer  ez 
a  wall,  but  thar's  a  ledge  'bout  twenty  feet 
down.  It  looked  mighty  narrer,  an'  thar  war  n't 
no  vines  ter  swing  by ;  but  I  jes'  hed  ter  think 
o'  them  devils  on  t'other  side  the  shop  ter  make 
me  willin'  ter  resk  it.  Waal,  thar  war  a  clump 
o'  sass'fras,  —  ye  know  the  bark  's  tough,  — 


GREAT  SMOKY  MOUNTAINS.  257 

near  the  aidge.  I  jes'  bruk  one  o'  the  shoots 
ter  the  root  an'  turned  it  down  over  the  aidge 
o'  the  bluff  an'  swung  on  ter  the  e-end  o'  it. 
Waal,  it  tore  off  in  my  hands,  but  I  did  n't  fall 
more'n  a  few  feet,  an'  lighted  on  the  ledge. 
An'  I  tossed  the  saplin'  away,  an'  then  I  walked, 
—  steps  'bout'n  two  inches  long,  ef  that  —  ez 
fur  ez  the  ledge  went,  cornsider'ble  way  from  the 
Settlemint,  an'  't  war  two  or  three  hunderd  feet 
ter  the  bottom,  whar  I  stopped.  An'  thar  war 
a  niche  thar  whar  I  could  sit  an'  lay  down, 
sorter.  Thar  I  bided  all  night.  I  hearn  'em 
huntin',  an'  it  made  me  laff.  I  knowed  they 
war  n't  a-goin'  ter  find  me,  but  I  did  n't  know 
how  I  war  a-goin'  ter  git  away  from  thar  with 
them  handcuffs  on*,  an'  ropes  'roun'  my  legs ; 
they  war  knotted  so  ez  I  could  n't  reach  'em  fur 
the  irons.  I  waited  all  nex'  day,  though  I  never 
hed  nuthin'  ter  eat  but  some  jew-berries  ez 
growed  'mongst  the  rocks  thar.  An'  the  nex' 
morn'n',"  —  his  eye  dilated  with  triumph,  — 
"  the  swellin'  o'  my  wrists  hed  gone  down,  an' 
I  could  draw  my  hands  out'n  the  handcuffs  ez 
easy  ez  lyin'." 

He  held  up  his  hands ;  they  were  small  for 
his  size,  and  bore  little  token  of  hard  work ; 
the  wrists  were  supple. 

"An'  then,"  he  said,  with  brisk  conclusive- 
ness,  "  I  jes'  on  tied  the  ropes  'roun'  my  feet  an* 

17 


258  THE  PROPHET  OF  THE 

clumb  up  ter  the  top  o'  the  mounting  by  vines 
an'  sech,  an'  struck  inter  the  laurel,  an'  never 
stopped  a-travelin'  till  I  got  ter  Cayce's  still." 

He  drew  a  long  sigh,  not  unmixed  with  pleas- 
ure. He  had  a  sense  of  achievement.  It  gave, 
perhaps,  a  certain  value  to  his  harsh  experi- 
ence to  recount  his  triumphs  to  so  fair  an  audi- 
ence. He  was  looking  at  her  with  a  dawning 
smile  in  his  eyes,  and  she  was  silently  looking 
at  him.  Suddenly  she  burst  into  sobs. 

"  Shucks,  D'rindy,  it  's  all  over  an'  done 
now,"  he  said,  appropriating  the  soft  sympathy 
of  her  tears. 

"  An'  I  'm  so  glad,  Rick ;  so  glad  fur  that. 
I  M  hev  bartered  my  hope  o'  heaven  fur  it," 
she  sobbed.  "  But  I  war  tm'nkin'  that  minit  o' 
the  pa'son.  They  'rested  him  in  his  pulpit,  an' 
they  would  n't  gin  him  bail,  an'  they  kerried 
him  'way  from  the  mountings,  an'  jailed  him, 
an'  he  '11  go  ter  the  pen'tiary,  ten  year  mebbe, 
fur  a  crime  ez  he  never  done.  Ye  would  n't 
let  him  do  that  ef  ye  could  holp  it,  would  ye, 
Rick?" 

She  looked  up  tearfully  at  him.  His  eyes 
gleamed  ;  his  nostrils  were  quivering ;  every 
fibre  in  him  responded  to  his  anger. 

"  Ef  I  could,  D'rindy  Cayce,  I  'd  hev  that 
man  chained  in  the  lowest  pits  o'  hell  fur  all 
time,  so  ye  mought  never  see  his  face  agin. 


GREAT  SMOKY  MOUNTAINS.  259 

An'  ef  I  could,  I  'd  wipe  his  mem'ry  off'n  the 
face  o'  the  yearth,  so  ye  mought  never  speak 
his  name." 

"Law,  Rick,  don't!"  protested  the  girl, 
aghast.  "  I  've  seen  ye  ez  jealous  o'  Amos 
Jeemes  "  — 

"  I  don't  keer  that  fur  Amos  Jeemes,"  he  ex- 
claimed, snapping  his  fingers.  "  I  hev  n't  seen 
ye  sit  an'  cry  over  Amos  Jeemes,  an'  sech  cat- 
tle, an'  say  he  war  like  a  prophet.  I  thought  ye 
war  thinkin'  'bout  me,  an'  —  an'  "  —  he  paused 
in  mortification. 

44  D'rindy,"  he  said,  suddenly  calm,  though 
his  eye  was  excited  and  quickly  glancing,  "  did 
ye  ax  him  ef  he  would  do  ennything  fur  me 
when  I  war  in  cusfc'dy  ?  " 

"  Naw,"  said  Dorinda,  "  nobody  could  do 
nuthin'  fur  you-uns,  'kase  they  'd  hev  ter  resk 
tharselfs  an'  run  agin  the  law.  But  what  I 
want  ye  ter  do  fur  pa'son  air  fur  jestice.  He 
never  done  what  he  war  accused  of.  An'  ye 
war  along  o'  Abednego  Tynes,  though  inner- 
cent.  Law,  Rick,  ef  the  murderer  would  say 
the  word  ter  set  ye  free,  can't  ye  do  ez  much 
fur  the  pa'son,  ez  hev  seen  so  much  trouble 
a'ready?" 

"  In  the  name  o'  Gawd,  D'rindy,  what  air  you- 
uns  a-wantin'  me  ter  do?"  he  asked,  in  sheer 
amazement. 


260  THE  PROPHET  OF  THE 

She  mistook  the  question  for  relenting.  She 
caressed  his  coat  sleeve  as  she  stood  beside  him. 
All  her  beauty  was  overcast ;  her  face  was 
stained  with  weeping ;  tears  dimmed  her  eyes, 
and  her  pathetic  gesture  of  insistence  seemed 
forlorn.  He  looked  down  dubiously  at  her. 

"  What  I  want  ye  ter  do,  Rick,  fur  him, 
air  right,  an'  law,  an'  jestice.  Nobody  could 
hev  done  that  fur  ye,  'cept  Abednego  Tynes, 
I  want  ye  ter  go  ter  pa'son's  trial  fur  the  res- 
cue, an'  gin  yer  testimony,  an'  tell  the  jedge 
an'  jury  the  tale  ye  hev  tole  me  —  the  truth  — 
an'  they  '11  be  obleeged  ter  acquit." 

He  flung  away  in  a  tumult  of  rage.  It  was 
exhausting  to  witness  how  his  frequent  gusts 
of  passion  shook  him. 

"D'rindy,"  he  thundered,  "ye  want  me  ter 
gin  myself  up  fur  the  pa'son  ;  ye  don't  keer 
nuthin'  fur  me,  so  he  gits  back  ter  the  Big 
Smoky  an'  you-uns.  I  mought  be  arrested  yit 
on  the  same  indictment  ;  the  nolle  prosequi 
don't  hender,  —  it  jes'  don't  set  no  day  fur  me 
ter  be  tried.  An'  mebbe  Steve  Byers  hev  been 
foolin'  me  some.  Ye  jes'  want  ter  trade  me  off 
ter  the  State  fur  the  pa'son." 

"  Ye  shan't  go !  "  cried  the  girl.  "  I  did  n't 
know  that  about  the  nolle  prosequi.  Ye  shan't 

go!" 

He  was  mollified  for  a  moment.     He  noticed 


GREAT  SMOKY  MOUNTAINS.  261 

again  how  pale  she  was.  "  Law,  D'rindy,"  he 
said,  "  ye  fairly  wear  yerself  out  with  yer  tan- 
trums. Why  n't  ye  do  like  other  folks ;  the 
pa'son  never  holped  me  none,  an'  I  ain't  got  no 
call  ter  holp  him." 

"  Ef  ye  war  ter  go  afore  the  squair  an'  swear 
'bout'n  the  rescue  an'  sech,  an'  git  him  ter  write 
it  ter  the  Court  fur  the  pa'son  "  — 

"  The  constable  o'  the  deestric'  ez  hangs  'roun* 
tliar  at  the .  jestice's  house  mought  be  thar  an* 
arrest  me,"  he  said,  speciously.  "  The  gov'nor 
hain't  withdrawn  that  reward  yit,  ez  I  knows 
on." 

"  Naw,"  she  said,  quickly,  "  I  '11  make  the 
boys  toll  the  constable  down  ter  the  still  till 
ye  git  through.  The  jestice  air  lame,  an'  ain't 
able  ter  arrest  ye,  an'  I  'd  be  thar  an'  gin  ye  the 
wink,  ef  thar  war  ennything  oncommon  enny- 
whar,  or  enny  men  aroun'." 

He  could  hardly  refuse.  He  could  not  affect 
fear.  He  hesitated. 

"Ez  long  ez  I  thunk  he  hed  rescued  ye,  I 
did  n't  hev  no  call  ter  move.  But  now  I  know 
how  't  war,  I  'd  fairly  die  ef  he  war  lef '  ter  suf- 
fer in  jail,  knowin'  he  hev  done  nuthin'  agin  the 
law." 

Her  lip  quivered.  The  tears  started  to  her 
eyes.  The  sight  of  them,  shed  for  another 
man's  sake,  excited  again  the  vigilant  jealousy 
in  his  breast. 


262  THE  PROPHET  OF  THE 

"I  '11  do  nuthin'  fur  Hi  Kelsey,"  he  declared. 
"  Ef  ye  ain't  in  love  with  him,  ye  would  be  ef 
he  war  ter  git  back  ter  the  Big  Smoky.  He 
done  nuthin'  fur  me,  an'  I  hev  no  call  ter  do 
nuthin'  fur  him." 

He  looked  furiously  at  her,  holding  her  at 
arm's  length.  "  Ye  hev  tole  me  ye  love  me,  an' 
I  expec'  ye  ter  live  up  ter  it.  Ye  hev  promised 
ter  marry  me,  an'  I  claim  ye  fur  my  wife.  Say 
that  man's  name  another  time,  an'  I  '11  kill  him 
ef  ever  he  gits  in  rifle  range  agin.  I  '11  kill 
him  !  I  '11  kill  him !  "  his  right  hand  was  once 
more  mechanically  toying  with  the  pistol,  while 
he  held  her  arm  with  the  other,  "  an'  I  '11  kill 
ye,  too ! " 

He  had  gone  too  far ;  he  had  touched  the 
dominant  impulse  of  her  nature.  Her  cheeks 
were  flaring.  Her  courage  blazed  in  her  eyes. 

"An'  I  tell  ye,  Rick  Tyler,  that  I  am  not 
afeard  o'  ye !  An'  ef  ye  let  a  man  suffer  fur 
a  word  ez  ye  kin  say  in  safety,  an'  an  act  ez 
ye  kin  do  in  ease,  ye  ain't  the  Rick  Tyler  I 
knowed,  —  ye  air  suthin'  else.  I  'lowed  ye  war 
good,  but  mebbe  I  hev  been  cheated  in  ye,  an' 
ef  I  hev,  I  '11  gin  ye  up.  I  ain't  a-goin'  ter 
marry  no  man  ez  I  can't  look  up  ter,  an'  say 
4  he  air  good  ! '  An'  ef  ye  '11  meet  me  a  hour 
'fore  sundown,  at  the  squair's  house,  ter-morrow 
evenin',  I  '11  b'lieve  in  ye,  an'  I  '11  marry  ye. 
An'  ef  ye  don't,  I  won't." 


GREAT  SMOKY  MOUNTAINS.  268 

She  caught  up  his  hat  and  gave  it  to  him. 
Then  she  opened  the  door.  The  white  mists 
stood  shivering  in  the  little  porch.  He  turned 
and  looked  in  angry  dismay  at  her  resolute  face. 
But  he  did  not  say  a  word,  though  he  knew  her 
heart  yearned  for  it  oeneath  her  inflexible 
mask.  He  walked  slowly  out,  and  the  door 
closed  upon  him,  and  upon  the  shivering  white 
mists.  He  paused  for  a  moment,  hesitating. 
He  heard  nothing  within —  not  even  her  retreat- 
ing step.  He  knew  as  well  as  if  he  had  seen  her 
that  she  was  leaning  against  the  door,  silently 
sobbing  her  heart  out. 

"  D'rindy  needs  a  lesson,"  he  said,  sternly,, 
And  so  he  went  out  into  the  night. 


264  THE  PROPHET  OF  THE 


XIV. 

THE  rain  ceased  the  next  day,  but  the  clouds 
did  not  vanish.  Their  folds,  dense,  opaque, 
impalpable,  filled  the  vastness.  The  landscape 
was  lost  in  their  midst.  The  horizon  had  van- 
ished. Distance  was  annihilated.  Only  a  yard 
or  so  of  the  path  was  seen  by  Dorinda,  as  she 
plodded  along  through  the  white  vagueness  that 
had  absorbed  the  familiar  world.  And  yet  for 
all  essentials  she  saw  quite  enough  ;  in  her  ig- 
norant fashion  she  deduced  the  moral,  that  if 
the  few  immediate  steps  before  the  eye  are 
taken  aright,  the  long  lengths  of  the  future  will 
bring  you  at  last  where  you  would  wish  to  be. 
The  reflection  sustained  her  in  some  sort  as  she 
went.  She  was  reluctant  to  acknowledge  it  even 
to  herself ;  but  she  had  a  terrible  fear  that  she 
had  imposed  a  test  that  Rick  would  not  endure. 
"  Ef  he  air  so  powerful  jealous  ez  that,  ter  not 
holp  another  man  a  leetle  bit,  when  he  knows 
it  can't  hurt  him  none,  he  air  jes'  selfish,  an' 
nuthin'  shorter." 

She  paused,  looking  about  her  mechanically. 
The  few  blackberry  bushes,  almost  leafless, 
stretching  out  on  either  hand,  were  indistinct 


GREAT  SMOKY  MOUNTAINS.  265 

in  the  mist,  and  against  the  dense  vapor  they 
had  the  meagre  effect  of  a  hasty  sketch  on 
a  white  paper.  The  trees  overhung  her,  she 
knew,  in  the  invisible  heights  above  ;  she  heard 
the  moisture  dripping  monotonously  from  their 
leaves.  It  was  a  dreary  sound  as  it  invaded 
the  solemn  stillness  of  the  air. 

"  An'  I  'm  bouii'  ter  try  ter  holp  him,  ef  I  kin. 
I  know  too  much,  sence  Rick  spoke  las'  night, 
ter  let  me  set  an'  fold  my  hands  in  peace. 
'Pears  like  ter  me  ez  that  thar  air  all  the  dif- 
f 'ence  'twixt  humans  an'  the  beastis,  ter  holp  one 
another  some.  An'  ef  a  human  won't,  'pears 
like  ter  me  ez  the  Lord  hev  wasted  a  soul  on 
that  critter." 

Despite  her  logic  she  stood  still;  her  blue 
eyes  were  surcharged  with  shadows  as  they 
wistfully  turned  upward  to  the  sad  and  sheeted 
day ;  her  lips  were  grave  and  pathetic ;  her 
blue  dress  had  gleams  of  moisture  here  and 
there,  and  a  plaid  woolen  shawl,  faded  to  the 
faintest  hues,  was  drawn  over  her  dense  black 
hair.  She  stood  and  hesitated.  She  thought 
of  the  man  she  loved,  and  she  thought  of  the 
word  he  denied  the  man  in  prison.  Poor  Do- 
rinda !  to  hold  the  scales  of  Justice  unblinded. 

"  I  dunno  what  ails  me  ter  be  'feard  he  won't 
kem ! "  she  said,  striving  to  reassure  herself ; 
"an'  ennyhow" — she  remembered  the  few 


266  THE  PROPHET  OF   THE 

immediate  steps  before  her  taken  aright,  and 
went  along  down  the  clouded  curtained  path 
that  was  itself  an  allegory  of  the  future. 

The  justice's  gate  loomed  up  like  fate,  —  the 
poor  little  palings  to  be  the  journey's  end  of 
hope  or  despair  I  A  pig,  without  any  apprecia- 
tion of  its  subtler  significance,  had  in  his  fre- 
quent wallowings  at  its  base  impaired  in  a 
measure  its  stability.  He  grunted  at  the  sound 
of  a  footfall,  as  if  to  warn  the  new-comer  that 
she  might  step  on  him.  Dorinda  took  heed  of 
the  imperative  caution,  opened  the  gate  gin- 
gerly, and  it  only  grazed  his  back.  He  grunted 
again,  whether  in  meagre  surly  approval,  or 
reproof  that  she  had  come  at  all,  was  hardly  to 
be  discriminated  in  his  gruff,  disaffected  tone. 

She  noticed  that  the  locust  leaves,  first  of  all 
to  show  the  changing  season,  were  yellow  on 
the  ground  ;  a  half  denuded  limb  was  visible  in 
the  haze.  There  were  late  red  roses,  widely 
a-bloom,  by  the  doorstep  of  the  justice's  house, 
• — a  large  double  cabin  of  hewn  logs,  with  a 
frame-inclosed  passage  between  the  two  rooms. 
There  was  glass  in  the  windows,  for  the  justice 
was  a  man  of  some  means  for  these  parts ;  and 
she  saw  behind  one  of  the  tiny  panes  his  bald 
polished  head  and  his  silver  rimmed  spectacles 
gleaming  in  animated  curiosity.  He  came  limp- 
ing, with  the  assistance  of  a  heavy  cane,  to  the 
door. 


GREAT  SMOKY  MOUNTAINS.  267 

"  Howdy,  D'rindy,"  he  exclaimed,  cheer- 
fully,  "come  in,  child.  What  sort  o'  weather 
is  this  I  "  In  abrupt  digression,  he  looked  over 
her  head  into  the  blank  vagueness  of  the  world. 
But  for  the  dim  light,  it  might  have  suggested 
the  empty  inexpressiveness  of  the  periods  be- 
fore the  creation,  when  "  the  earth  was  without 
form  and  void." 

"  It  air  tol'erble  airish  in  the  fog,"  said  Do- 
rinda,  finding  her  voice  with  difficulty. 

The  room  into  which  she  was  ushered  seemed 
to  her  limited  experience  a  handsome  apart- 
ment. But  somehow  the  passion  of  covetous- 
ness  is  an  untouched  spring  in  the  nature  of 
these  mountaineers.  The  idea  of  ownership 
did  not  enter  into  Dorinda's  mind  as  she  gazed 
at  the  green  plaster  parrot  that  perched  in  state 
on  the  high  mantel-piece.  She  was  sensible  of 
its  merits  as  a  feature  of  the  domestic  landscape 
at  the  "  jestice's  house,"  precisely  as  the  sight 
of  the  distant  Chilhowee  was  company  in  her 
lonely  errands  about  the  mountain.  To  be  de- 
prived of  either  would  be  like  a  revulsion  of 
nature.  She  did  not  grudge  the  justice  his  pos- 
session, nor  did  she  desire  it  for  herself.  She 
entertained  a  simple  admiration  for  the  image, 
and  always  looked  to  see  it  on  its  lofty  perch 
when  she  first  entered  the  room.  There  were 
several  books  piled  beside  it,  which  the  justice 


268  THE  PROPHET  OF  THE 

valued  more.  There  was,  too,  a  little  square 
looking-glass,  in  which  one  might  behold  a  dis- 
tortion of  physiognomy.  Above  all  hung  a 
framed  picture  of  General  Washington  crossing 
the  Delaware.  The  mantel-piece  was  to  the  girl 
a  museum  of  curiosities.  A  rag  carpet  covered 
the  floor ;  there  was  a  spinning-wheel  in  the 
corner  ;  a  bed,  too,  draped  with  a  gay  quilt,  — 
a  mad  disportment  of  red  and  yellow  patch- 
work, which  was  supposed  to  represent  the  ris- 
ing sun,  and  was  considered  a  triumph  of  hand- 
icraft. The  justice's  seat  was  a  splint-bot- 
tomed chair,  which  stood  near  a  pine  table 
where  ink  was  always  displayed  —  of  a  pale 
green  variety  —  writing-paper,  and  a  pile  of 
books.  The  table  had  a  drawer  which  it  was 
difficult  to  open  or  shut,  and  now  and  then 
"  the  squair "  engaged  in  muscular  wrestling 
with  it. 

He  sat  down,  with  a  sigh,  and  drew  forth  his 
red  bandana  handkerchief  from  the  pocket  of 
his  brown  jeans  coat,  and  polished  the  top  of 
his  head,  and  stared  at  Dorinda,  much  marvel- 
ing as  to  her  mission.  She  had  not,  in  her 
primitive  experience,  attained  to  the  duplicity 
of  a  subterfuge  ;  she  declined  the  invitation  to 
go  into  the  opposite  room,  where  his  wife  was 
busy  cooking  supper,  by  saying  she  was  waiting 
for  a  man  whom  she  expected  to  meet  here  to 
explain  something  to  the  justice. 


GREAT  SMOKY  MOUNTAINS.  269 

"  Is  it  a  weddin',  D'rindy  ?  "  exclaimed  the 
old  fellow,  waggishly. 

"  *T  ain't  a  weddin',"  said  Dorinda,  curtly. 

"  Ye  air  foolin'  me  !  "  he  declared,  with  a  jo- 
cose affectation  of  inspecting  his  attire.  "  I  hev 
got  another  coat  I  always  wears  ter  marry  a 
couple,  an'  ye  don't  want  ter  gimme  a  chance 
ter  spruce  up,  fur  fear  I  '11  take  the  shine  off'n 
the  groom.  It 's  a  weddin' !  Who  is  the  happy 
man,  D'rindy  ?  " 

This  jesting,  as  appropriate,  according  to  ru- 
ral etiquette,  to  a  young  and  pretty  woman  as 
the  compliments  of  the  season,  seemed  a  dreary 
sort  of  fun  to  Dorinda,  so  heavy  had  her  presag- 
ing heart  become.  There  was  a  trifle  of  sensi- 
bility in  the  old  squire,  perhaps  induced  by 
much  meditation  in  his  inactive  indoor  life,  and 
he  recognized  something  appealing  in  the  girl's 
face  and  attitude,  as  she  sat  in  a  low  chair  be- 
fore the  dull  fire  that  served  rather  to  annul 
the  chilliness  of  the  day  than  to  diffuse  a  per- 
ceptible warmth.  The  shawl  had  dropped  from 
her  head  and  loosely  encircled  her  throat ;  her 
hand  twisted  its  coarse  fringes ;  she  was  always 
turning  her  face  toward  the  window  where  only 
the  pallid  mists  might  be  seen  —  the  pallid  mists 
and  a  great  glowing  crimson  rose,  that,  motion- 
less, touched  the  pane  with  its  velvet  petals. 
The  old  justice  forbore  his  jokes,  his  dignities 


270  THE  PROPHET  OF  THE 

might  serve  him  better.  He  entertained  Do- 
rinda  by  telling  her  how  many  times  he  had 
been  elected  to  office.  And  he  said  he  would  n't 
count  how  many  times  he  expected  to  be,  for  it 
was  his  firm  persuasion  that  "  when  Gabriel 
blew  that  thar  old  horn  o'  his'n,  he  'd  find  the 
squair  still  a-settin'  in  jedgment  on  the  Big 
Smoky."  He  showed  her  his  books,  and  told 
her  how  the  folks  at  Nashville  were  constrained 
by  the  law  of  the  State  to  send  him  one  every 
time  they  made  new  laws.  And  she  understood 
this  as  a  special  and  personal  compliment,  and 
was  duly  impressed. 

Out-doors  the  still  day  was  dying  silently,' 
like  the  gradual  sinking  from  a  comatose  state, 
that  is  hardly  life,  to  the  death  it  simulates. 
How  did  the  gathering  darkness  express  itself 
in  that  void  whiteness  of  the  mists,  still  visibly 
white  as  ever  !  Night  was  sifting  through  them  ; 
the  room  was  shadowy ;  yet  still  in  the  glow  of 
the  fire  she  beheld  their  pallid  presence  close 
against  the  window.  And  the  red  rose  was 
shedding  its  petals  !  —  down  dropping,  with  the 
richness  of  summer  spent  in  their  fleeting  beauty, 
their  fragrance  a  memory,  the  place  they  had 
embellished,  bereft.  She  did  not  reflect ;  she 
only  felt.  She  saw  the  rose  fade,  the  sad  night 
steal  on  apace ;  the  hour  had  passed,  and  she 
knew  he  would  not  come.  She  burst  into  sud- 
den tears. 


GREAT  SMOKY  MOUNTAINS.  271 

The  old  man,  whether  it  was  in  curiosity  or 
sympathy,  had  his  questions  justified  by  her 
self-betrayal,  and  his  craft  easily  drew  the  story 
from  her  simplicity.  He  got  up  suddenly,  with 
an  expression  of  keen  interest.  She  followed 
his  motions  dubiously,  as  he  took  from  the  man- 
tel-piece a  tallow  dip  in  an  old  pewter  candle- 
stick, and  with  slow  circumspection  lighted  the 
sputtering  wick.  "  I  want  ter  look  up  a  p'int 
o'  law,  D'rindy,"  he  said,  impressively.  "  Ye 
jes'  set  thar  an'  I  '11  let  ye  know  d'rec'ly  how 
the  law  stands." 

It  seemed  to  Dorinda  a  long  time  that  he  sat 
with  his  book  before  him  on  the  table,  his  spec- 
tacles gleaming  in  the  light  of  the  tallow  dip, 
close  at  hand,  his  lips  moving  as  he  slowly  read 
beneath  his  breath,  now  and  then  clutching  his 
big  red  handkerchief,  and  polishing  of?  the  top 
of  his  round  head  and  his  wrinkled  brow.  Twice 
he  was  about  to  close  the  book.  Twice  he  re- 
newed his  search. 

And  now  at  last  it  was  small  comfort  to  Do- 
rinda to  know  that  the  affidavit  would  not, 
in  the  justice's  opinion,  have  been  competent 
testimony.  He  called  it  an  ex  parte  statement, 
and  said  that  unless  Rick  Tyler's  deposition 
were  taken  in  the  regular  way,  giving  due  no- 
tice to  the  attorney-general,  it  could  not  be 
admitted,  and  that  in  almost  all  criminal  cases 


272  THE  PROPHET  OF  THE 

witnesses  were  compelled  to  testify  viva  voce. 
Small  comfort  to  Dorinda  to  know  that  the  effort 
was  worthless  from  the  beginning,  and  that  on 
it  she  had  staked  and  lost  the  dearest  values  of 
her  life.  As  he  read  aloud  the  prosy,  prolix 
sentences,  they  were  annotated  by  her  sobs. 

"  Dell-law !  D'rindy,  't  warn't  no  good,  no- 
how !  "  he  exclaimed,  presently,  breaking  off 
with  an  effort  from  his  reading,  for  he  relished 
the  rotund  verbiage,  —  the  large  freedom  of 
legal  diction  impressed  him  as  a  privilege,  ac- 
customed as  he  was  only  to  the  simple  phras- 
ings  of  his  simple  neighbors.  He  could  not 
understand  her  disappointment.  Surely  Rick 
Tyler's  defection  could  not  matter,  he  argued, 
since  the  affidavit  would  have  been  worthless. 

She  did  not  tell  him  more.  All  the  world 
was  changed  to  her.  Nothing  —  not  her  lover 
himself —  could  ever  make  her  see  it  as  once  it 
was.  She  declined  the  invitation  to  stay  and 
eat  supper,  and  soon  was  once  more  out  in  the 
pallid  mist  and  the  contending  dusk.  The  scene 
that  she  had  left  was  still  vivid  in  her  mind, 
and  she  looked  back  once  at  the  lucent  yellow 
square  of  the  lighted  window  gleaming  through 
the  white  vapors.  The  rose-bush  showed  across 
the  lower  panes,  and  she  remembered  the  mel- 
ancholy fall  of  the  flower. 

Alas,  the  roses  all  were  dead  I 


GREAT  SMOKY  MOUNTAINS.  273 


XV. 

IT  was  not  so  dreary  in  the  dark  depths  of 
the  cavern  as  in  the  still  white  world  without ; 
and  the  constable  of  the  district,  one  Ephraim 
Todd,  found  the  flare  of  the  open  furnace  and 
the  far-reaching  lights,  red  among  the  glooms, 
and  a  perch  on  an  empty  barrel,  and  the  warm 
generosities  of  the  jug,  a  genial  transition. 
Nevertheless  he  protested. 

"  You-uns  oughter  be  plumb  'shamed,  Pete," 
he  said,  "  ter  toll  me  hyar,  an'  me  a  off'cer  o' 
the  law." 

"  Ye  hev  been  hyar  often  afore,  the  Lord 
above  knows,"  asseverated  Pete,  "  an'  ye  needed 
mighty  little  tollin'." 

"  But  I  warn  't  a  ofFcer  o'  the  law,  then," 
said  the  constable,  wrestling  with  his  official 
conscience.  "  An'  I  hev  tuk  a  oath  an'  am 
under  bonds.  An'  hyar  I  be  a-consortin'  with 
law-breakers,  an'  't  ain't  becomin'  in  a  ofE'cer 
o'  the  law." 

"  Ye  ain't  tuk  no  oath,  nor  entered  into  no 
bonds  ter  keep  yer  throat  ez  dry  ez  a  lime-kiln," 
retorted  Pete.  "  Jes'  take  a  swig  at  that  thar 

18 


274  THE  PROPHET  OF  THE 

jug  an'  hand  it  over  hyar,  will  ye,  an'  hold  yer 
jaw." 

Thus  readily  the  official  conscience,  never 
rampant,  was  pacified.  The  constable  had  for- 
merly been,  as  Pete  said,  an  habituS  of  the  place, 
but  since  his  elevation  to  office  he  had  made 
himself  scarce,  in  deference  to  the  promptings 
of  that  newly  acquired  sense  of  dignity  and 
propriety.  Should  some  chemical  process  oblit- 
erate for  a  time  a  leopard's  spots,  consider  the 
satisfaction  of  the  creature  to  find  himself  once 
more  restored  to  his  natural  polka-dots  ;  and 
such  was  the  complacence  of  the  constable,  with 
his  artificial  conscience  evaporated  and  his  heart 
mottled  with  its  native  instincts  of  good  and 
evil.  He  was  glad  to  be  back  in  the  enjoyment 
of  the  affluent  hospitalities  of  the  moonshiner's 


He  was  a  big,  portly  fellow,  hardly  more 
symmetrical  than  the  barrel  upon  which  he  was 
seated.  He  had  an  inexhaustible  fund  of  good 
humor,  and  was  not  even  angry  when  Pete,  in 
sheer  contrariety,  told  him  the  reason  for  his 
enticement  to  the  still.  He  said  he  would  be 
glad  enough  if  Rick  Tyler  could  swear  out  any- 
thing that  would  benefit  the  parson,  and  de- 
clared that  he  believed  only  Micajah  Green's 
malice  could  have  compassed  his  incarceration. 

"  'Cajah  inquired  o'  me  whar  this  place  war, 


GREAT  SMOKY  MOUNTAINS.  275 

Pete,"  he  said,  "  a-purtendin'  like  he  hed  been 
hyar  wunst.  But  I  jes'  tole  him  't  war  ez  safe 
ez  a  unhatched  deedie  in  a  aig  —  an'  I  batted 
my  eye,  jes'  so,  an'  he  shet  up  purty  quick." 

The  gleam  from  the  furnace  door  showed 
Pete's  own  light  gray  eyes  intently  staring  at 
the  visitor,  but  he  said  nothing  and  the  matter 
passed. 

When  the  constable's  heart  was  warmed  by 
the  brush  whiskey  he  understood  the  sensation 
as  happiness,  and  he  translated  happiness  as  a 
religious  excitement.  He  seemed  maudlin  as 
he  talked  about  the  parson,  who,  he  declared, 
had  led  him  to  grace,  and  he  recited  some  won- 
derful stories  of  religious  experience,  tending 
to  illustrate  his  present  righteousness  and  the 
depths  of  iniquity  from  which  he  had  been  re- 
deemed. Pete's  perversity  operated  to  curtail 
these.  "That's  a  fac' !  "  he  would  heartily 
assent ;  "  ye  useter  be  one  o'  the  meanes'  men 
on  these  hyar  mountings  !  "  Or  "  Grace  hed  a 
mighty  wrastle  with  Satan  in  yer  soul.  I  dunno 
whether  he  air  cast  out  yit!" 

The  constable  —  his  big  owlish  head  askew 
—  was  embarrassed  by  these  manoeuvres,  and 
presently  the  talk  drifted  to  the  subject  of  the 
parson's  spiritual  defection.  This  he  considered 
a  mental  aberration. 

"  Hi  Kelsey,"  he  said,  "  war  always  more  or 


276  THE  PROPHET  OF  THE 

less  teched  in  the  head.  I  hev  noticed  —  an'  ye 
may  sot  it  down  ez  a  true  word  —  ez  ev'y  man 
ez  air  much  smarter  'n  other  men  in  some  ways, 
in  other  ways  air  foolisher.  He  mought  proph- 
esy one  day,  an'  the  nex'  ye  wouldn't  trest 
him  ter  lead  a  blind  goose  ter  water.  He  air 
smarter  'n  enny  man  I  ever  see  —  Pa'son  Kel- 
sey  air.  Thar 's  Brother  Jake  Tobin  ain't  got 
haffen  his  sense;  an'  yit  nobody  can't  say  ez 
Brother  Jake  ain't  sensible." 

The  philosopher  upon  the  barrel,  as  he  made 
this  nice  distinction,  gazed  meditatively  into  the 
bed  of  live  coals  that  flung  its  red  glare  on  his 
broad  flushed  countenance  and  wide  blinking 
eyes.  It  revealed  the  others,  too  :  the  old  man's 
hard,  lined,  wrinkled  visage  and  his  stalwart 
supple  frame ;  Pete,  with  his  long  tangled  hair, 
his  pipe  between  his  great  exposed  teeth ;  Ab, 
filling  the  furnace  with  wood,  his  ragged  beard 
moved  by  the  hot  breath  of  the  fire ;  the  big- 
boned,  callow  Sol,  with  his  petulant  important 
face ;  and  Ben,  in  the  dim  background  tossing 
the  sticks  over  to  Ab  from  the  gigantic  wood- 
pile. They  fell  with  a  sharp  sound,  and  the 
cave  was  full  of  their  multiplied  echoes.  The 
men  as  they  talked  elevated  their  voices  so  as 
to  be  heard. 

Ab  was  rising  from  his  kneeling  posture. 
He  closed  the  furnace  door,  and  as  it  clashed 


GREAT  SMOKY  MOUNTAINS.  277 

he  thought  for  an  instant  he  was  dreaming.  In 
that  instant  he  saw  Pete  start  up  suddenly  with 
wild,  distended  eyes,  and  with  a  leveled  pistol 
in  his  hand.  The  next  moment  Ab  knew  what 
it  meant.  A  sharp  report  —  and  a  jet  of  red 
light,  projected  from  the  muzzle  of  the  weapon, 
revealed  a  group  of  skulking,  unfamiliar  figures 
stealthily  advancing  upon  them.  The  return 
fire  was  almost  instantaneous,  and  was  followed 
by  multitudinous  echoes  and  a  thunderous  crash 
that  thrilled  every  nerve.  The  darkness  was 
filled  with  the  clamors  of  pandemonium,  for  the 
concussion  had  dislodged  from  the  roof  a  huge 
fragment  of  rock,  weighing  doubtless  many 
tons.  The  revenue  raiders  lagged  for  a  mo- 
ment, confused  by  the  overwhelming  sound, 
the  clouds  of  stifling  dust,  and  the  eerie  aspect 
of  the  place.  They  distinguished  a  sharp  voice 
presently,  crying  out  some  imperative  com- 
mand, and  after  that  there  was  no  more  resist- 
ance from  the  moonshiners.  They  had  disap- 
peared as  if  the  earth  had  swallowed  them. 

The  intruders  were  at  a  loss.  They  could 
not  pursue  and  capture  the  men  in  the  dark. 
If  the  furnace  door  were  opened  they  would  be 
targets  in  the  glare  for  the  lurking  moonshiners 
in  the  glooms  beyond.  It  did  not  occur  to  them 
that  the  cave  had  another  outlet,  until,  as  the 
echoes  of  the  fallen  fragment  grew  faint,  they 


278  TEE  PROPHET  OF  THE 

heard  far  away  a  voice  crying  out,  "  Don't  leave 
me !  "  and  the  mocking  rocks  repeating  it  with 
their  tireless  mimicry. 

It  was  the  constable.  He  never  forgot  that 
agonized  retreat  down  those  unknown  black 
depths.  He  was  hardly  able  to  keep  pace  with 
his  swifter  fellows,  falling  sometimes,  and  be- 
ing clutched  to  his  feet  rudely  enough,  as  they 
pressed  on  in  a  close  squad ;  feeling  now  and 
then  the  sudden  wing  of  a  bat  against  his  face 
and  interpreting  it  as  the  touch  of  a  human 
pursuer  ;  sometimes  despairing,  as  they  scram- 
bled through  a  long,  low,  narrow  passage, 
scarcely  wide  enough  for  the  constable's  com- 
fortable fatness.  Then  it  was  that  fear  de- 
scended upon  him  with  redoubled  force,  and  he 
would  exclaim  in  pity  of  his  plight,  "  An'  me  a 
offcer  o'  the  law  ! "  He  impeded  their  flight 
incalculably,  but  to  their  credit  be  it  said  the 
lighter  weights  had  never  a  thought  of  desert- 
ing their  unfortunate  guest  despite  the  danger 
of  capture  and  the  distress  of  mind  induced  by 
the  loss  of  their  little  "  all."  The  poor  consta- 
ble fitted  some  of  the  tube-like  passages  like  the 
pith  in  the  bark,  and  as  he  was  at  last  drawn, 
pallid,  struggling,  his  garments  in  shreds,  from 
an  aperture  of  the  cave  in  a  dense  untrodden 
jungle  of  the  laurel,  he  again  piteously  ex* 
claimed,  "  An'  me  a  off'cer  o'  the  law  !  " 


GREAT  SMOKY  MOUNTAINS.  279 

There  was  little  leisure,  however,  to  meditate 
upon  his  degraded  dignity.  He  followed  the  ex- 
ample of  the  moonshiners,  and  ran  off  through 
the  laurel  as  fleetly  as  a  fat  man  well  could. 

The  raiders  showed  excellent  judgment.  They 
offered  no  pursuit  down  those  dark  and  devious 
underground  corridors.  Acquiring  a  sense  of 
security  from  the  echoes  growing  ever  fainter 
and  indicative  of  lengthening  distances,  they 
presently  opened  the  furnace  door,  and  by  the 
aid  of  the  flare  cut  the  tubs  and  still  to  pieces, 
destroyed  the  worm,  demolished  the  furnace, 
and  captured  in  triumph  sundry  kegs  and  jugs 
of  the  illicit  whiskey.  There  was  a  perfunctory 
search  for  the  distillers  at  the  log-cabin  on  the 
mountain  slope.  But  the  officers  made  haste 
to  be  off,  for  the  possibility  of  rally  and  recap- 
ture is  not  without  parallel  facts  in  the  annals 
of  moonshining. 

Perhaps  the  mountain  wilds  had  never  shel- 
tered a  fiercer  spirit  than  old  Groundhog  Cayce 
when  he  ventured  back  into  his  den  and  stood 
over  the  ruins  of  his  scanty  fortunes,  —  the 
remnants  of  the  still ;  the  furnace,  a  pile  of 
smoking  stones  and  ashes  and  embers ;  the 
worm  in  spiral  sections;  the  tubs  half  burnt, 
riven  in  pieces,  lying  about  the  ground.  The 
smoke  was  still  dense  overhead  and  the  hot 
stones  were  sending  up  clouds  of  steam.  It  was 


280  THE  PROPHET  OF  THE 

as  well,  perhaps,  since  the  place  would  never 
again  be  free  from  inspection,  that  it  could  not 
be  used  as  it  once  was.  The  great  fragment  of 
rock,  fallen  from  the  roof,  lay  in  the  course  of 
the  subterranean  stream,  and  the  water,  thus 
dammed,  was  overflowing  its  channel  and  widely 
spreading  a  shallow  flood  all  along  the  familiar 
ground.  It  was  rising.  He  made  haste  to  se- 
cure the  few  articles  overlooked  by  the  raiders  : 
a  rifle,  a  powder-horn  on  one  of  the  ledges  that 
served  as  shelf,  a  bag  of  corn,  the  jovial  jug. 
And  for  the  last  time  he  crept  through  the  nar- 
row portal  and  left  the  cavern  to  the  dense  dark- 
ness, to  the  floating  smoke,  to  the  hissing  em- 
bers, and  the  slow  rising  of  the  subterranean 
springs. 

For  days  he  nursed  his  wrath  as  he  sat  upon 
the  cabin  porch  beneath  the  yellow  gourds  and 
the  purple  blooms  of  the  Jack-bean,  and  gazed 
with  unseeing  eyes  at  the  wide  landscape  before 
him.  The  sky  was  blue  in  unparalleled  intensity. 
The  great  "  balds  "  towered  against  it  in  sharp 
outlines,  in  definite  symmetry,  in  awful  height. 
The  forests  were  aflame  with  scarlet  boughs. 
The  balsams  shed  upon  the  air  their  perfumes, 
so  pervasive,  so  tonic,  that  the  lungs  breathed 
health  and  all  the  benignities  of  nature.  The 
horizon  seemed  to  expand,  and  the  exquisite 
lucidity  of  the  atmosphere  revealed  vague  lines 


GREAT  SMOKY  MOUNTAINS.  281 

of  far  away  mountains  unknown  to  the  limita- 
tions of  less  favored  days.  In  the  woods  the 
acorns  were  dropping,  dropping,  all  the  long 
hours.  The  yellow  sunshine  was  like  a  genial 
enthusiasm,  quickening  the  pulses  and  firing 
the  blood.  The  hickory  trees  seemed  dyed  in 
its  golden  suffusions,  and  were  a  lustrous  con- 
trast to  the  sombre  pine,  or  the  dappled  maple, 
or  the  vivid  crimson  of  the  black-gum.  But 
the  future  of  the  year  was  a  narrowing  space  ; 
the  prospects  it  had  brought  were  dwarfed  in 
the  fulfillment,  or  were  like  an  empty  clutch  at 
the  empty  air.  And  winter  was  afoot ;  ah,  yes, 
the  tenderest  things  were  already  dead,  —  the 
flowers  and  the  hopes, —  and  the  splendid  season 
cherished  in  its  crimson  heart  a  woeful  premoni- 
tion. And  thus  the  winds,  blowing  where  they 
listed,  sounded  with  a  melancholy  cadence ;  and 
the  burnished  yellow  sheen  was  an  evanescent 
light;  and  the  purple  haze,  vaguely  dropping 
down,  had  its  conclusive  intimations  in  despite 
that  it  loitered. 

Dorinda,  with  her  hands  folded  too,  sat  much 
of  the  time  in  dreary  abstraction  on  the  step 
of  the  porch,  looking  down  at  the  yellowed 
cornfield  which  she  and  Rick  ploughed  on 
that  ecstatic  June  morning.  How  long  ago 
it  seemed !  Sometimes  above  it,  among  the 
brown  tassels,  there  hovered  in  the  air  a  cluster 


282  THE  PROPHET  OF   THE 

of  quivering  points  of  light  against  the  blue 
mountain  opposite,  as  some  colony  of  gossamer- 
winged  insects  disported  themselves  in  the  sun- 
shine. And  the  crickets  were  shrilling  yet  in 
the  grass.  She  saw  nothing,  and  it  would  be 
hard  to  say  what  she  thought.  In  the  brilliancy 
of  her  youthful  beauty  —  a  matter  of  linear 
accuracy  and  delicate  chiseling  and  harmonious 
coloring,  for  nature  had  been  generous  to  her 
—  it  might  seem  difficult  to  descry  a  likeness 
to  the  wrinkled  and  weather-beaten  features  of 
her  father's  lowering  face,  as  he  sat  in  his  chair 
helplessly  brooding  upon  his  destroyed  oppor- 
tunities. But  there  was  a  suggestion  of  inflexi- 
bility in  both :  she  had  firm  lines  about  her 
mouth  that  were  hard  in  his ;  the  unflinching 
clearness  of  her  eyes  was  a  reflection  of  the  un- 
flinching boldness  of  his.  Her  expression  in 
these  days  was  so  set,  so  stern,  so  hopeless  that 
one  might  have  said  she  looked  like  him.  He 
beheld  his  ruined  fortunes  ;  she,  her  bereft  heart. 
Amos  James,  one  day,  as  he  stood  on  the 
porch,  saw  this  look  on  her  face.  She  was  lean- 
ing on  her  folded  arms  in  the  window  hard  by. 
She  had  spoken  to  him  as  absently  and  with  as 
mechanical  courtesy  as  the  old  moonshiner  at 
the  other  end  of  the  porch.  He  came  up  close 
to  her.  It  was  a  wonderful  contrast  to  the  face 
she  had  worn  when  they  talked,  that  day  at  the 


GREAT  SMOKY  MOUNTAINS.  283 

spring,  of  Rick  Tyler's  escape,  With  the  quick- 
ened intuition  of  a  lover's  heart  he  divined  the 
connection. 

"  Ye  hain't  kep'  yer  promise,  D'rindy,"  he 
said,  in  a  low  tone. 

"  What  promise  ?  "  she  demanded,  rousing 
herself  and  knitting  her  brows  as  she  looked  at 
him. 

"  Ye  'lowed  ye  'd  let  me  know  ef  ever  ye  kem 
ter  think  less  o'  Rick  Tyler." 

Her  eyes,  definitely  angry,  flashed  upon  him. 

"  Ye  shan't  profit  by  it,"  she  declared. 

And  so  he  left  her,  still  leaning  in  the  vine- 
framed  window,  the  lilac  blossoms  of  the  Jack- 
bean  drooping  until  they  touched  her  black 
hair. 

Rick  Tyler  was  dismayed  by  the  result  of  his 
jealousy  and  the  strange  "  lesson  "  that  Dorinda 
had  learned.  He  found  her  inflexible.  She 
reminded  him  sternly  of  the  conditions  of  her 
promise  and  that  he  had  failed.  And  when  he 
protested  that  he  was  jealous  because  he  loved 
her  so,  she  said  she  valued  no  love  that  for  her 
sake  grudged  a  word,  not  in  generosity,  but  in 
simple  justice,  to  liberate  an  innocent  man  in 
the  rigors  of  a  terrible  doom.  And  when  at 
this  man's  very  name  he  was  seized  with  his 
accustomed  impetuous  anger,  she  looked  at  him 
with  a  cool  aloof  scrutiny  that  might  have  ex- 


284  THE  PROPHET  OF  THE 

pressed  a  sheer  curiosity.  It  bewildered  and 
tamed  him.  He  had  never  heard  of  a  Spartan. 
He  only  thought  of  her  as  immovable,  and  as 
infinitely  remote  from  his  plane,  as  the  great 
dome  of  the  mountain.  He  remembered  that 
she  had  always  softened  to  his  misfortunes,  and 
he  talked  of  how  he  had  suffered.  But  she 
said  that  was  all  over  now,  and  he  had  been 
"  mighty  lucky."  He  sought  to  appeal  to  her 
in  her  own  behalf,  and  reminded  her  how  she 
had  loved  him  through  it  all,  how  she  would 
have  married  him,  despite  the  fierce  pursuit  of 
the  law.  She  had  loved  him;  he  would  not 
forget  that. 

"  No,"  she  said,  drearily.  "  I  never  loved  ye. 
I  loved  what  I  thunk  ye  war.  But  ye  war  n't 
that  —  nuthin'  like  it !  Ye  war  suthin'  else.  I 
war  jes'  in  love  with  my  own  foolishness." 

Poor  Dorinda!  Alas,  for  the  fair  ideals! 
these  things  are  transient. 

He  went  away  at  last,  indignant  and  amazed. 
Once  he  thought  of  offering  to  make  the  affi- 
davit, not  cognizant  of  its  fatal  defect,  and  then 
the  conviction  took  hold  upon  him  that  this 
melancholy  was  her  deep  disappointment  be- 
cause she  loved  the  man  she  sought  to  aid.  And 
sometimes  he  could  not  believe  he  had  lost  her 
heart.  And  yet  when  he  would  go  back,  her 
dull  indifference  to  his  presence  would  convince 


GREAT  SMOKY  MOUNTAINS.  285 

him  alike  that  he  was  naught  to  her  now  and 
that  he  had  been  supplanted. 

His  contradictions  of  feeling  began  to  crystal- 
lize into  a  persistent  perversity.  He  took  pleas- 
ure in  denying  the  story  she  had  told  of  his 
escape,  and  many  people  hardly  knew  which 
version  to  believe.  He  congratulated  Brother 
Jake  Tobin  one  evening  at  the  cabin  on  having 
turned  Hi  Kelsey  out  of  the  church,  and  called 
him  a  wolf  in  sheep's  clothing.  And  then  for 
his  pains  he  was  obliged  to  listen  to  her  defense 
of  the  absent  man ;  she  declared  the  parson  was 
like  one  of  the  prophets,  like  some  man  in  the 
Bible.  As  to  that  confession  he  had  made  in 
the  church,  "  't  war  plain  he  war  out'n  his 
head."  Meantime  Brother  Jake  Tobin  dis- 
creetly bent  his  attention  upon  the  honey  and 
fried  chicken  on  the  supper  table,  and  Rick 
Tyler  fumed  in  silence. 

After  the  news  of  the  nolle  prosequi  Rick 
went  about  the  mountain  with  his  former  large 
liberty.  His  step-brothers  were  desirous  of 
obliterating  his  recollection  of  their  avoidance, 
and  made  him  a  present  of  several  head  of  cat- 
tle and  some  hogs.  He  lived  at  home  among 
them,  and  began  to  have  prospects  for  the 
future.  He  was  planning  with  the  younger 
Cayces  to  start  a  new  still,  for  a  region  is  par- 
ticularly safe  for  that  enterprise  immediately 


286  THE  PROPHET  OF  THE 

after  a  visit  from  the  revenue  officers,  their  early 
return  being  improbable.  And  he  talked  about 
a  house-raising  while  the  weather  held  fine  and 
before  snow.  "  I  'm  a-thinkin'  'bout  gittin' 
married,  Pete,  ter  a  gal  over  yander  ter  the 
Settlemint,"  he  said,  looking  for  the  effect  on 
Dorinda.  She  was  as  silent,  as  stern,  as  listless 
as  ever.  And  but  for  the  sheer  futility  of  it  he 
might  have  fallen  to  upbraiding  her  and  pro- 
testing and  complaining  as  of  yore,  and  repudi- 
ated the  mythical  "gal  at  the  Settlemint." 

All  the  leaves  were  falling.  Crisp  and  sere, 
they  carpeted  the  earth  and  fled  before  the 
wind.  They  seemed  in  some  wise  to  illumine 
the  slopes  as  they  lay  in  long  yellow  vistas  un- 
der the  overhanging  black  boughs.  Many  a 
nest  was  revealed,  —  empty,  swinging  on  the 
bare  limb.  The  mountains  near  at  hand  were 
sad  and  sombre,  the  stark  denuded  forests  show- 
ing the  brown  ground  among  the  trees,  and 
great  jutting  crags,  and  sterile  stretches  of  out- 
cropping rocks,  and  fearful  abysmal  depths  of 
chasms  —  and  streams,  too,  madly  plunging. 
All  the  scene  was  stripped  of  the  garb  of  foli- 
age, and  the  illusion  of  color,  and  the  poetry  of 
the  song  birds  and  the  flowers.  More  distant 
ranges  were  of  a  neutral  vagueness,  and  farther 
still  they  seemed  a  nebulous  gray  under  a  gray 
sky.  When  the  sun  shone  they  were  blue  —  a 


GREAT  SMOKY  MOUNTAINS.  287 

faint,  unreal  blue,  a  summer  souvenir  clinging 
to  the  wintry  landscape  like  some  youthful  trait 
continued  in  a  joyless  age. 

For  it  was  November,  and  the  days  were 
drear. 

About  this  time  an  excited  rumor  suddenly 
prevailed  that  Parson  Kelsey  had  returned  to 
the  Great  Smoky  Mountains.  It  was  widely 
discredited  at  first,  but  proved  to  be  authorized 
by  Gid  Fletcher,  who  was  himself  just  back 
from  Shaftesville,  where  he  had  been  to  testify 
in  the  trial  for  the  rescue  of  Rick  Tyler.  A 
story  of  discomfiture  he  retailed,  and  he  seemed 
ill  at  ease  and  prone  to  lay  much  blame  on  Rick, 
whose  perverse  circulation  of  diverse  accounts 
of  the  escape  had  greatly  unnerved  him  before 
his  journey,  and  prevented  the  prosecution  from 
summoning  Rick  as  a  witness,  if  indeed  he 
would  have  permitted  himself  to  be  served  with 
the  subpoena.  The  judge  was  testy  during  the 
trial  and  charged  the  jury  in  favor  of  the  pris- 
oner; after  the  verdict  of  acquittal  he  stated 
indignantly  that  there  had  been  practically 
no  evidence  against  the  defendant,  and  that  it 
was  a  marked  instance  of  the  indifference  or 
ignorance  of  the  committing  magistrate  and  the 
grand  jury  that  such  a  case  of  flagrant  malice 
could  get  beyond  them  and  into  the  jurisdiction 
of  the  court.  Gid  Fletcher  solaced  himself  by 


288  THE  PROPHET  OF  THE 

telling  how  Green  played  the  fool  on  the  stand 
when  the  judge  snarled  at  him,  and  contradicted 
himself  and  cut  a  "  mighty  pore  figger." 
"  Though  ez  ter  that,  the  pa'son  riz  up  an'  re- 
viled both  me  an'  'Cajah  in  open  court,"  said 
Fletcher.  "  'Pears  like  he  hed  read  the  Bible 
so  constant  jes'  ter  Tarn  ev'y  creepy  soundin' 
curse  ez  could  be  called  down  on  the  he*ads  o' 
men.  An'  somebody  said  ter  the  jedge  arter- 
ward  ez  he  oughter  fine  pa'son  fur  contempt  o' 
court.  An'  the  jedge  'lowed  he  warn  't  a  stat- 
ute ;  he  hed  some  human  natur  in  him,  an'  he 
wanted  me  an'  'Cajah  ter  hear  the  truth  spoke 
one  time." 

The  blacksmith  declared,  too,  that  he  was 
"  fairly  afeard  o'  pa'son  "  and  his  fierce  threats 
of  revenge,  and  was  glad  enough  that  they  were 
not  obliged  to  make  the  journey  together,  for 
he,  having  a  horse,  had  ridden,  while  the  parson 
had  been  constrained  to  walk.  "  I  reckon  he  's 
hyar  by  this  time,"  Fletcher  said  to  Nathan 
Hoodendin,  "  but  I  ain't  a-hankerin'  ter  meet 
up  with  him  agin.  He  's  more  like  a  wild 
beastis  'n  a  man  ;  ter  see  him  cut  his  blazin'  eye 
aroun'  at  ye,  ye  'd  'low  ez  he  'd  never  hearn  o' 
grace ! " 

The  snow  came  with  Kelsey.  One  day,  when 
the  dull  dawn  broke,  the  white  flakes  were 
softly  falling  —  silent,  mysterious,  ghostly  inva- 


GREAT  SMOKY  MOUNTAINS.  289 

sion  of  the  wild  wintry  air  and  the  woods.  All 
adown  chasms  and  ravines,  unexplored  and  un- 
known, the  weird  palpitating  motion  animated 
the  wide  and  desert  spaces.  The  ground  was 
deeply  covered  ;  the  drifts  filled  the  hollows ; 
they  burdened  the  crests  of  the  jutting  crags 
and  found  a  lodgment  in  all  the  fissures  of  their 
dark  and  rugged  faces.  The  white  lines  on  the 
bare  black  boughs  served  to  discriminate  their 
sylvan  symmetry.  Vague  solemnities  pervaded 
the  silent  marshaling^of  these  forces  of  Nature. 
The  wind  held  its  breath.  An  austere  hush  lay 
upon  the  chilled  world.  The  perspective  had 
its  close  limitations  and  the  liberties  of  vision 
were  annulled.  Only  the  wild  things  were 
abroad ;  but  the  foot-prints  of  the  rabbit  or  the 
deer  were  freshly  filled,  and  the  falling  snow 
seemed  to  possess  the  world.  When  it  ceased 
at  last  it  lay  long  on  the  ground,  for  the  cold 
continued.  And  the  wilderness  was  sheeted 
and  still. 

There  were  presently  visible  occasional  ruts 
winding  in  and  out  among  the  trees,  marking 
the  course  of  the  road  and  the  progress  of  some 
adventurous  wagon  and  ox-team,  —  sometimes, 
too,  the  hoof-prints  of  a  saddle-horse.  One 
might  easily  judge  how  few  of  the  mountaineers 
had  ventured  out  since  the  beginning  of  the 
"  cold  snap."  These  marks  were  most  nuiner- 

19 


290  THE  PROPHET  OF  THE 

ous  in  front  of  the  log-house  where  Hiram  Kel- 
sey  and  his  uncle  and  the  two  old  men  sat 
around  the  fire.  There  was  a  prevalent  curios- 
ity as  to  how  the  parson  had  endured  the 
double  humiliation  of  imprisonment  and  being 
cast  out  of  the  church.  They  were  hardly  pre- 
pared for  the  tempestuous  fury  which  animated 
him  upon  the  mention  of  the  prosecution  and 
the  witnesses'  names.  But  when  hesitating  in- 
quiries were  propounded  by  those  of  his  visitors 
disposed  to  controversy,  —  seeking  to  handle 
his  heresies  and  gauge  his  infidelity,  —  he  would 
fall  from  the  ecstasies  of  rage  to  a  dull  despon- 
dency. 

"  I  dunno,"  he  would  say,  looking  into  the 
heart  of  the  red  fire.  "I  can't  sati'fy  my  mind. 
Some  things  in  the  Bible  air  surely  set  contra- 
riwise. I  can't  argyfy  on  'em.  But  thar  's  one 
thing  I  kinjfeeZ —  Christ  the  Lord  liveth.  An' 
sometimes  that  seems  doctrine  enough.  An' 
mebbe  some  day  I  '11  find  Him." 

A  thaw  came  on,  checked  by  a  sudden  freeze. 
He  thought  it  as  cold  as  ever  one  afternoon 
about  sunset  as  he  trudged  along  the  road.  He 
sa,w  a  tiny  owl,  perched  in  a  cedar  tree  hard  by 
the  rail  fence.  The  creature's  feathers  were 
ruffled  and  it  looked  chill.  The  atmosphere 
was  of  a  crystalline  clearness.  The  mountains 
in  the  east  had  dropped  the  snow  from  the  dark- 


GREAT  SMOKY  MOUNTAINS.  291 

ling  pines,  but  above,  the  towering  balds  rose 
in  unbroken  whiteness,  imposed  in  onyx-like 
distinctness  upon  the  azure  sky.  There  were 
vague  suggestions  of  blue  and  violet  and  rose 
on  the  undulations  of  the  steep  snow-covered 
slopes  close  at  hand.  The  crags  were  begirt 
with  icicles,  reaching  down  many  feet  and  brill- 
iant with  elusive  prismatic  glimmers.  He 
heard  a  sudden  crash ;  a  huge  scintillating  pen- 
dant had  fallen  by  its  own  weight.  Chilhowee 
stood  massive  and  richly  purple  beyond  the 
snowy  valley  ;  above  was  a  long  stretch  of  saf- 
fron sky,  and  in  its  midst  the  red  sun  was  going 
down.  He  stood  to  watch  its  fiery  disc  slip  be- 
hind the  mountains,  and  then  he  turned  and 
pursued  his  way  through  the  neutral-tinted  twi- 
light of  the  wintry  evening. 

Old  Cayce's  log-cabin  rose  up  presently,  dark 
and  drear  against  the  high  and  snowy  slopes 
behind  it.  The  drifts  still  lay  thatch-like  on 
the  roof  ;  the  eaves  were  fringed  with  icicles. 
The  overhanging  trees  were  cased  in  glittering 
icy  mail.  The  blackened  cornstalks,  left  stand- 
ing in  the  field  as  is  the  habit  until  next  spring's 
ploughing  should  begin,  were  writhen  and  bent, 
and  bore  gaunt  witness  to  the  devastation  of 
the  winter  wind.  The  smoke  was  curling  briskly 
from  the  chimney,  and  as  the  door  opened  to 
his  knock,  the  great  fire  of  hickory  and  ash, 


292  THE  PROPHET  OF  THE 

sending  up  yellow  and  blue  flames  all  tipped 
with  vivid  scarlet,  cast  a  genial  flare  upon  the 
snowy  landscape,  slowly  darkening  without. 
He  experienced  a  sudden  surprise  as  his  eye  fell 
upon  old  man  Cayce,  the  central  figure  of  the 
group,  having  heard  stories  of  the  moonshiner's 
deep  depression,  consequent  upon  the  disastrous 
raid,  and  of  the  apathy  into  which  he  had 
fallen.  They  hardly  seemed  true.  He  sat  erect 
in  his  chair,  his  supple  frame  alert,  his  eye  in- 
tent, every  fibre  charged  with  energy,  his  face 
deeply  flushed.  He  looked  expectant,  eager. 
His  stalwart  sons  sat  with  him  in  a  semi-circle 
about  the  wide  warm  hearth.  All  their  pipes 
were  freshly  alight,  for  the  evening  meal  was 
just  concluded.  They  too  wore  an  aspect  of 
repressed  excitement. 

Kelsey  detected  it  in  their  abstraction  during 
the  formal  greetings,  and  when  he  was  seated 
among  them,  ever  and  anon  they  shifted  uneas- 
ily in  their  chairs,  which  grated  harshly  on  the 
puncheon  floor.  Sometimes  there  sounded  a 
faint  jingling  of  spurs  when  they  moved  their 
feet  on  the  ill-adjusted  stones  of  the  hearth. 
They  had  their  pistols  in  their  belts  and  per- 
chance their  lives  in  their  hands.  His  admis- 
sion was  in  some  sort  a  confidence,  but  although 
he  marveled,  he  said  nothing. 

The  bare  and  humble  furnishing  of  the  room 


GREAT  SMOKY  MOUNTAINS.  293 

was  very  distinct  in  the  rich  glow,  —  the  few 
chairs,  the  shelves  with  the  cooking  utensils, 
the  churn,  a  chest,  the  warping-bars,  the  spin- 
ning-wheel ;  and  their  simple  domestic  signifi- 
cance seemed  at  variance  with  the  stern  and  si- 
lent armed  men  grouped  about  the  fire. 

A  vibrant  sound  —  one  of  the  timbers  had 
sprung  in  the  cold.  Solomon  rose  precipitately. 

"Nuthin',  Sol,  nuthin',"  said  the  old  man, 
testily.  "  'T  ain't  nigh  time  yit." 

Nevertheless  Sol  opened  the  door.  The  chill 
air  rushed  in.  The  yellow  flames  bowed  and 
bent  fantastically  before  it.  Outside  the  gib- 
bous moon  hung  in  the  sky,  and  the  light,  sol- 
emn, ghostly,  pervaded  with  pallid  mysteries 
the  snowy  vistas  of  the  dense,  still  woods.  The 
shadow  of  the  black  boughs  lay  in  distinct 
tracery  upon  the  white  surface ;  there  was  a 
vague  multiplication  of  effect,  and  the  casual 
glance  could  ill  distinguish  the  tree  from  its 
semblance.  Vacant  of  illusions  was  the  wind- 
ing road  —  silent,  and  empty,  and  white,  its 
curve  visible  from  the  fire-place  through  the 
black  rails  of  the  zigzag  fence.  Hiram  Kelsey 
caught  a  glimpse,  too,  of  the  frosty  dilations  of 
a  splendid  star ;  then  the  door  closed  and  Sol 
came  back  with  jingling  spurs  to  his  seat  by  the 
fireside. 

"  Be  you-uns  sati'fied?  "  demanded  Pete, 
with  a  sneer. 


294  THE  PROPHET  OF  THE 

Sol,  abashed,  said  nothing,  and  once  more  the 
ominous  silence  descended,  all  moodily  watch- 
ing the  broad  and  leaping  flames  and  the  pul- 
sating coals  beneath. 

Somehow  the  geniality  of  the  fire  suggested 
another  bright  and  dominant  presence  that  was 
wont  in  some  sort  to  illumine  the  room. 

"  Whar  be  D'rindy  ?  "  asked  Kelsey,  suddenly. 

"Waal  — D'rindy,"  said  Ab,  the  eldest  of 
the  sons,  evidently  withdrawing  his  mind  with 
an  effort,  "  she  hev  gone  ter  Tuckaleechee  Cove, 
ter  holp  nuss  Aunt  Jerushy's  baby.  It 's  ailin', 
an'  bein'  ez  it  air  named  arter  D'rindy,  she  sets 
store  by  it,  an'  war  powerful  tormented  ter  hear 
how  the  critter  war  tuk  in  its  stummick.  She 
kerried  Jacob  along,  too,  'kase  she  'lows  she 
hankers  arter  him  when  she 's  away,  an'  she 
makes  out  ez  we-uns  cross  him  in  his  temper, 
'thout  she  air  by  ter  pertect  him.  I  warwillin' 
'kase  it  air  peacefuller  hyar  without  Jacob  'n 
with  him  —  though  he  air  my  own  son,  sech  ez 
he  be.  An'  D'rindy  hev  pompered  him  till  he 
air  ez  prideful  ez  a  tur-r-key  gobbler,  an'  jes' 
about  ez  cornsiderate." 

"  She  lef  Mirandy  Jane  an'  me,"  said  Pete, 
facetiously  showing  his  great  teeth. 

"  Waal,"  said  the  old  man,  speaking  with  his 
grave  excited  eyes  still  on  the  fire.  "  I  be  tol- 
er'ble  glad  ez  D'rindy  tuk  this  time  ter  leave 


GREAT  SMOKY  MOUNTAINS.  295 

home  fur  a  few  days  'kase  she  hev  been  toler'- 
ble  ailin'  an'  droopy.  An'  t'  other  day  some  o' 
the  boys  got  ter  talkin'  'bout'n  how  sure  they 
be  ez  't  war  'Cajah  Green  —  dad-burn  the  crit- 
ter !  —  ez  gin  the  revenue  hounds  the  word 
whar  our  still  war  hid.  An'  D'rindy,  she  jes' 
tuk  a  screamin'  fit,  an'  performed  an'  kerried 
on  like  she  war  bereft  o'  reason.  An'  she  got 
down  old  Betsy  thar  "  —  pointing  to  a  rifle  on 
the  rack  —  "  ez  Pete  hed  made  her  draw  a  mark 
on  it  ter  remember  'Cajah  Green  by,  an'  his 
word  ez  he  'd  jail  her  some  day,  an'  she  wanted 
me  an'  the  boys  ter  swear  on  it  ez  we-uns 
would  never  shoot  him." 

"  An'  did  you-uns  swear  sech  ?  "  asked  Hiram 
Kelsey,  in  fierce  reprobation.  Beneath  the 
broad  brim  of  his  hat  his  eyes  were  blazing ; 
their  large  dilated  pupils  canceled  the  iris  and 
the  idea  of  color  ;  they  were  coals  of  fire.  His 
shadowed  face  was  set  and  hard;  it  bore  a 
presage  of  disappointment  —  and  yet  he  was 
doubtful. 

Pete  turned  and  looked  keenly  at  him. 

"  Waal,"  said  the  old  man,  embarrassed,  and 
in  some  sort  mortified,  "  D'rindy,  ye  see,  war 
ailin',  an',  an'  —  I  never  hed  but  that  one 
darter  an'  sech  a  pack  o'  sons,  an  it  'pears  like 
she  oughter  be  humored  —  an'  "  — 

"  Ye  w-wants  him  shot,  hey,  pa'son  ?  "    Pete 


296  THE  PROPHET  OF  THE 

/ 

interrupted  his  critical  study  of  the  unconscious 
subject. 

Kelsey 's  eyes  flashed. 

"  I  pray  that  the  Lord  may  cut  him  off,"  he 
said. 

"Waal,  the  Lord  ain't  obleeged  ter  use  a 
rifle,"  said  Pete,  pertinently.  "  Even  we-uns 
kin  find  more  ways  than  that." 

"  The  pa'son  mought  ez  well  go  along  an' 
holp,"  said  Groundhog  Cayce. 

Kelsey  turned  his  eyes  in  blank  inquiry  from 
the  old  man  to  Pete  by  his  side. 

"We  air  a-layin'  fur  him  now,"  Pete  ex- 
plained. 

"  He  hain't  been  so  delivered  over  by  the 
Lord  ez  ter  kem  agin,  arter  informin'  the  raid- 
ers, inter  the  Big  Smoky  ?  "  Kelsey  asked,  for- 
getting himself  for  the  moment,  and  aghast  at 
the  doomed  man's  peril. 

Pete  tapped  his  head  triumphantly. 
"'T  ain't  stuffed  with  cotton  wool,"  he  de- 
clared. "  We  let  on  ter  the  mounting  ez  we 
never  knowed  who  done  it.  An'  we  jes'  laid 
low,  an'  held  our  tongues  betwixt  our  teeth, 
when  we  hearn  'bout'n  his  'quirin'  round  'bout'n 
the  still,  from  this'n  an'  that'n,  d'rectly  arter 
the  'lection.  We  got  him  beat  fur  that,  jes' 
'count  o'  what  he  said  ter  D'rindy,  'kase  she 
would  n't  g-g-gin  her  cornsent  ter  shootin' 


GREAT  SMOKY  MOUNTAINS.  297 

an'  got  dad  set  so  catawampus,  he  obeyed  her 
like  Jacob  would  n't  fur  nuthin'.  An'  "  —  with 
rising  emphasis,  "  th-th-the  blamed  critter  'lows 
he  lef  no  tracks  an'  ain't  been  fund  out  yit ! 
An'  hyar  he  be  on  the  Big  Smoky  agin,  a-fin- 
ishin'  up  some  onsettled  business  with  his  old 
office.  I  seen  him  yander  ter  the  Settlemint, 
an'  talked  with  him  frien'ly  an'  familiar,  along 
o'  Gid  Fletcher,  an'  fund  out  when  he  war  ter 
start  down  ter  Eskaqua  Cove,  ter  bide  all  night 
at  Tobe  Grirnes's  house." 

uBut  —  but  —  ef  they  never  tole  him, — 
surely  none  o'  'em  told  him  "  —  argued  Kelsey, 
breathlessly. 

Pete  showed  his  long  teeth.  "  Somebody  tole 
him,"  he  said,  with  a  fierce  smile.  "H-h-he 
couldn't  git  the  mounting  ter  t-t-turn  agin 
we-uns ;  they  war  afeard  !  "  cynically  discrimi- 
nating the  motive.  "  So  he  kern  nosin'  roun' 
'mongst  our  c-c-chillen  —  the  little  chillen,  ez 
did  n't  know  what  they  war  a-tellin',  an'  Jacob 
tole  him  whar  the  cave  war,  an'  'bout  haulm' 
the  apples  fur  pomace.  Jacob  war  the  man, 
fur  Mirandy  Jane  hearn  him  say  it.  She  hed 
seen  'Cajah  Green  afore,  when  he  war  sher'ff." 

It  was  a  palpable  instance  of  bad  faith  and 
imposition,  and  it  tallied  well  with  Hiram  Kel- 
sey's  own  wrongs.  He  sat  brooding  upon  them, 
and  looking  at  the  fire  with  dulled  meditative 

• 


298  THE  PROPHET  OF  THE 

eyes.  One  of  the  logs,  burnt  in  twain,  broke 
with  a  crash  under  the  burden  of  the  others, 
and  the  fire,  quickening  about  them,  sent  up 
myriads  of  sparks  attendant  upon  the  freshen- 
ing flames ;  among  the  pulsating  red  coals  there 
were  dazzling  straw-tinted  gleams,  and  a  vista 
of  white  heat  that  repelled  the  eye.  Outside 
the  wind  was  rising  —  its  voice  hollow,  keen, 
and  shrill  as  it  swept  over  the  icy  chasms ;  the 
trees  were  crashing  their  bare  boughs  together. 
It  was  a  dreary  sound.  From  far  away  came 
the  piercing  howl  of  some  prowling  hungry 
wolf,  familiar  enough  to  the  ears  that  heard  it, 
but  its  ravening  intimations  curdled  the  blood. 
A  cock's  crow  presently  smote  the  air,  clear 
and  resonant  as  a  bugle,  and  with  a  curse  on 
tardiness  the  impatient  Sol  once  more  rose  and 
opened  the  door  to  look  out. 

A  change  was  impending.  Clouds  had  come 
with  the  wind,  from  the  west  to  meet  the  moon. 
Though  tipped  with  the  glint  of  silver,  the 
black  portent  was  not  disguised.  Rain  or 
snow,  it  mattered  not  which.  The  young 
mountaineer  held  the  door  open  to  show  the 
darkening  sky  and  the  glittering  earth,  and 
looked  over  his  shoulder  with  a  triumphant 
glance. 

"  That  will  settle  the  footprints,"  he  said. 

There  was  something  so  cruel  in  his  face,  so 


GREAT  SMOKY  MOUNTAINS.  299 

deadly  in  his  eye,  a  ferocious  satisfaction  in  the 
promised  security  so  like  the  savage  joy  of  a 
skulking  beast,  that  it  roused  a  normal  impulse 
in  the  breast  of  the  man  who  read  the  thoughts 
of  bis  fellow-men  like  an  open  book.  Kelsey 
was  himself  again. 

He  raised  his  hand  suddenly,  with  an  imper- 
ative gesture. 

"  Listen  ter  me ! "  he  said,  with  that  enthu- 
siasm kindling  in  his  eyes  which  they  honored 
sometimes  as  the  light  of  religion,  and  some- 
times reviled  as  frenzy.  "  Ye  '11  repent  o'  yer 
deeds  this  night!  An'  the  jedgmint  o'  the 
Lord  will  foller  ye !  Yer  father's  gray  hairs 
will  go  down  in  sorrow  ter  the  grave,  but  his 
mind  will  die  before  his  body.  An'  some  o' 
you-uns  will  languish  in  jail,  an'  know  the 
despair  o'  the  bars.  An'  he  that  is  bravest 
'mongst  ye  will  mark  how  his  shadder  dogs 
him.  An'  ye  will  strike  yer  hands  tergether, 
an'  say,  *  That  the  day  hed  never  dawned,  that 
the  night  hed  never  kem  fur  we-uns ! '  An' 
ye  '11  wisht  ye  hed  died  afore !  An*  but  for 
the  coward  in  the  blood,  ye  would  take  yer 
own  life  then!  An'  ye '11  look  at  the  grave 
before  ye,  an'  hope  ez  it  all  ends  thar ! " 

His  eye  blazed.  He  had  risen  to  his  feet  in 
the  intensity  of  his  fervor.  And  whether  it 
was  religion  or  whether  it  was  lunacy,  it  trans- 
figured him. 


300  THE  PROPHET  OF   THE 

They  had  all  quailed  before  him,  half  over- 
borne by  the  strength  of  his  emotion,  and  half 
in  deprecation,  because  of  their  faith  in  his 
mysterious  foreknowledge.  But  as  he  turned, 
pushed  back  his  chair,  and  hastily  started  toward 
the  door,  they  lost  the  impression.  Pete  first 
recovered  himself. 

"  Wh-wh-whar  be  you-uns  a-goin'  ?  "  he  de- 
manded, roughly. 

The  parson  turned  fiercely.  He  thrust  out 
his  hand  with  a  gesture  of  repudiation,  and 
once  more  he  lifted  the  latch. 

"Naw,  ye  ain't  g-g-goin',"  said  Pete,  with 
cool  decision,  throwing  himself  against  the 
door.  "  Ye  hev  sot  'mongst  we-uns  an'  h-hearn 
our  plans.  Ye  'peared  ter  gin  yer  cornsent 
w-when  dad  said  ye  could  go  'long.  Dad  thought 
ye  'd  like  ter  hev  a  s-sheer  in  payin'  yer  own 
grudge.  We  hev  tole  ye  what  we  hev  tole  no 
other  livin'  man.  An'  now  ye  hev  got  ter  hev 
our  reason  ter  h-h-hold  yer  jaw.  I  don't  like 
ter  s-shoot  a  man  down  under  our  own  roof  ez 
kern  hyar  frien'ly,  but  ef  ye  fools  with  that 
thar  latch  agin,  I  reckon  I'll  be  obleeged  ter 
do  it." 

If  Pete  Cayce  had  possessed  an  acute  dis- 
crimination in  the  reading  of  faces,  he  might 
have  interpreted  Kelsey's  look  as  a  pondering 
dismay ;  the  choice  offered  him  was  to  do  mur- 


GREAT  SMOKY  MOUNTAINS.  301 

der  or  to  die !  As  it  was,  Pete  only  noted  the 
relinquishment  of  the  parson's  design  when  he 
sat  down  silent  arid  abstracted  before  the  fire. 

But  for  his  deep  grudge,  it  might  have 
seemed  that  Kelsey  had  intended  to  forewarn 
Mica j  ah  Green  of  the  danger  in  the  path,  and 
to  turn  him  back.  Pete  did  not  feel  entirely 
reassured  until  after  he  had  said,  — 

"  I  'lowed  ez  ye  s-s-swore  ye  fairly  despise 
'Cajah  G-G-Green,  an'  r-raged  ter  git  even 
with  him.". 

"I  furgits  it  sometimes,"  rejoined  Kelsey. 

And  Pete  did  not  apprehend  the  full  mean- 
ing of  the  words. 

"  An'  don't  do  no  more  o'  yer  prophesyin' 
ternight,  Hiram,"  said  the  old  man,  irritably. 
"It  fairly  gins  me  the  ager  ter  hear  sech  talk." 

The  night  wore  on.  The  fire  roared;  the 
men,  intently  listening  sat  around  the  hearth. 
Now  and  then  a  furtive  glance  was  cast  at  Hi- 
ram Kelsey.  He  seemed  lost  in  thought,  but 
his  eye  glittered  with  that  uninterpreted,  in- 
scrutable light,  and  they  were  vaguely  sorry 
that  he  had  come  among  them.  They  took 
scant  heed  of  his  reproach.  It  has  been  so 
long  the  unwritten  law  of  moonshiners  that 
the  informer  shall  perish  as  the  consequence  of 
his  malice  and  his  rashness,  that  whatever  nor- 
mal moral  sense  they  possess  is  in  subjection 


302  THE  PROPHET  OF  THE 

to  their  arbitrary  code  of  justice  and  the  sav- 
age custom  of  the  region.  The  mysterious  dis- 
appearance of  a  horse-thief  or  a  revenue  spy, 
dramatically  chronicled,  with  a  wink  and  a 
significant  grin,  as  "  never  hearn  on  no  more," 
or,  "  fund  dead  in  the  road  one  mornin',''  affects 
the  mountaineers  much  as  the  hangman's  sum- 
mary in  the  Friday  evening  papers  impresses 
more  law-abiding  communities  —  shocking,  but 
necessary. 

The  great  fire  was  burnt  to  a  mass  of  coals. 
The  wind  filled  the  ravines  with  a  tumult  of 
sound.  The  bare  woods  were  in  wild  commo- 
tion. The  gusts  dashed  upon  the  roof  snow 
perhaps,  or  sleet,  or  vague  drizzling  rain  ;  now 
discontinued,  now  coming  again  with  redoubled 
force.  Suddenly,  a  growl  from  the  dogs  under 
the  house ;  then  the  sound  of  a  crunching  hoof 
in  the  snow. 

The  men  sallied  forth,  swift  and  silent  as 
shadows.  There  was  a  frantic  struggle  in  the 
road ;  a  wild  cry  for  help ;  a  pistol  fired  wide 
of  the  mark,  the  report  echoing  in  the  silence 
from  crag  to  crag,  from  chasm  to  chasm  with 
clamorous  iteration,  as  if  it  would  alarm  the 
world.  The  horses  were  ready.  The  men 
hastily  threw  themselves  into  the  saddle. 

It  had  been  arranged  that  Kelsey,  who  had 
no  horse,  should  ride  before  the  prisoner.  He 


GREAT  SMOKY  MOUNTAINS.  303 

mounted,  drew  about  his  own  waist  the  girth 
which  bound  the  doomed  man,  buckling  it 
securely,  and  the  great  gray  horse  was  in  the 
centre  of  the  squad. 

Micajah  Green  begged  as  they  went  —  begged 
as  only  a  man  can  for  his  life.  He  denied,  he 
explained,  he  promised. 

"  Ye  cotton  ter  puttin'  folks  in  jail,  'Cajah  ! 
Yer  turn  now !  We  '11  put  ye  whar  the  dogs 
won't  bite  ye,"  said  the  old  man,  savagely. 
And  the  rest  said  never  a  word. 

The  skies  were  dark,  the  mountain  wilds 
awful  in  their  immensity,  in  their  deep  obscu- 
rities, in  the  multitudinous  sounds  of  creaking 
boughs  and  shrilling  winds. 

They  were  in  the  dense  laurel  at  last.  The 
branches,  barbed  with  ice,  and  the  evergreen 
leaves,  burdened  with  snow,  struck  sharply  in 
their  faces  as  they  forced  their  way  through. 
The  swift  motion  had  chilled  them  ;  icicles 
clung  to  their  hair  and  beard  ;  each  could  hardly 
see  the  dark  figures  of  the  others  in  the  dense 
umbrageous  undergrowth  as  they  recognized 
the  spot  they  sought  and  called  a  halt.  It  was 
the  mouth  of  the  cave ;  they  could  hear  the 
sound  of  the  dark  cold  water  as  it  rippled  in 
the  vaulted  place  where  the  dammed  current 
rose  now  half-way  to  the  roof.  Their  wretched 
prisoner,  understanding  this  fact  and  the  sav- 


304  THE  PROPHET  OF  THE 

age  substitute  for  the  rifle,  made  a  despairing 
struggle. 

"  Lemme  git  a  bolt  of  him,  Hi,"  said  Pete, 
his  teeth  chattering,  his  numbed  arms  stretched 
up  in  the  darkness  to  lay  hold  on  his  victim. 

"  Hyar  he  be,"  gasped  the  parson. 

There  was  another  frantic  struggle  as  they 
tore  the  doomed  man  from  the  horse ;  a  splash, 
a  muffled  cry  —  he  was  cast  headlong  into  the 
black  water.  A  push  upon  a  great  bowlder 
hard  by  —  it  fell  upon  the  cavity  with  a  crash, 
and  all  hope  of  egress  was  barred.  Then, 
terrorized  themselves,  the  men  mounted  their 
horses ;  each,  fleeing  as  if  from  pursuit,  found 
his  way  as  best  he  might  out  of  the  dark  wil- 
derness. 

One  might  not  know  what  they  felt  that  night 
when  the  rain  came  down  on  the  roof.  One 
might  not  dare  to  think  what  they  dreamed. 

The  morning  broke,  drear,  and  clouded,  and 
full  of  rain,  and  hardly  less  gloomy  than  the 
night.  The  snow,  tarnished,  and  honeycombed 
with  dark  cellular  perforations,  was  melting  and 
slipping  down  and  down  the  ravines.  The  gi- 
gantic icicles  encircling  the  crags  fell  now  and 
then  with  a  resounding  crash.  The  drops  from 
the  eaves  dripped  monotonously  into  the  pud- 
dles below.  The  roof  leaked.  Sol's  bridle-hand 
had  been  frozen  the  night  before  in  the  long 
swift  ride. 


GREAT  SMOKY  MOUNTAINS.  305 

But  the  sun  came  out  again ;  the  far  moun- 
tains smiled  in  a  blue  vagueness  that  was  almost 
a  summer  garb.  The  relics  of  the  snow  exhaled 
a  silvery  haze  that  hung  airily  about  the  land- 
scape. Only  the  immaculate  whiteness  of  those 
lofty  regions  of  the  balds  withstood  the  thaw, 
and  coldly  glittered  in  wintry  guise. 

A  strange  sensation  thrilled  through  the  fire- 
side group  one  of  these  mornings  when  Amos 
James  came  up  from  the  mill,  and  as  he  smoked 
with  them  asked  suddenly,  all  unaware  of  the 
tragedy,  "  What  ailed  'Cajah  Green  ter  leave 
the  Big  Smoky  in  sech  a  hurry  ?  " 

"  Wh-wh-at  d  'ye  mean  ?  "  growled  Pete,  in 
startled  amaze. 

And  then  Amos  James,  still  unconscious  of 
the  significance  of  the  recital,  proceeded  to  tell 
that  shortly  after  daybreak  on  last  Wednesday 
morning  he  heard  a  "  powerful  jouncin'  of 
huffs,"  and  looking  out  of  the  window  he  saw 
Micajah  Green  on  his  big  gray  horse,  flying 
along  the  valley  road  at  a  tremendous  rate  of 
speed.  Before  he  could  open  the  window  to 
hail  him,  man  and  horse  were  out  of  sight. 

It  was  a  silent  group  that  Amos  left,  all 
meditating  upon  that  swift  equestrian  figure, 
pictured  against  the  dreariness  of  the  rainy 
dawn,  and  the  gray  mist,  and  the  shadowing 
mountains. 


306  THE  PROPHET  OF  THE 

"  Amos  seen  a  ghost,"  said  Pete,  presently. 
He  looked  dubiously  over  his  shoulder,  though 
the  morning  sunshine  came  flickering  through 
the  door,  widely  ajar. 

"  That  ain't  nuthin'  oncommon,"  said  the  old 
man,  sturdily.  Then  he  told  a  ghastly  story  of 
a  legal  execution,  —  that  the  criminal  was  seen 
afterward  sitting  in  the  moonlight  under  the 
gallows  on  his  coffin-lid  ;  and  other  fearful  fan- 
tasies of  the  rural  mind,  which,  morbidly  ex- 
cited, will  not  accept  the  end  of  the  rope  as  a 
finality. 

It  was  only  when  Obediah  Scruggs  came  to 
their  house  searching  for  his  nephew,  saying  that 
Hiram  had  not  been  seen  nor  heard  of  since  he 
had  set  out  one  evening  to  visit  them,  that 
a  terrible  premonition  fell  upon  Groundhog 
Cayce.  His  iron  will  guarded  it  for  a  time, 
till  some  one  journeying  from  Shaftesville  re- 
ported having  seen  there  Micajah  Green,  who 
was  full  of  a  terrible  story  of  a  midnight  attack 
upon  him  by  the  Cayce  tribe,  from  whom  he 
had  miraculously  escaped  in  the  midst  of  the 
struggle  and  darkness,  he  declared,  and  more 
dead  than  alive.  Then  mysteriously  and  with 
heavy  presage  Pete  and  his  father  made  a  pil- 
grimage to  the  cave.  They  pried  up  the  bowl- 
der over  the  cavity.  They  heard  the  deep 
water  held  in  the  subterranean  reservoir  still 


GREAT  SMOKY  MOUNTAINS.  307 

sighing  and  echoing  with  the  bubbling  of  the 
mountain  spring.  On  the  surface  there  floated 
a  hat  —  Hi  Kelsey's  limp  and  worn  old  hat. 

They  never  told  their  secret.  They  replaced 
the  bowlder,  and  sealed  their  lips.  The  old 
man  began  to  age  rapidly.  His  conscience  was 
heavier  than  his  years.  But  it  was  a  backwoods 
conscience,  and  had  the  distortions  of  his  prim- 
itive philosophy.  One  day  he  said  piteously, 
44  It  air  a  dreadful  thing,  Pete,  ter  kill  a  man 
by  accident." 

And  Pete  replied  meditatively,  "I  dunno 
but  what  it  air." 

By  degrees,  as  they  reflected  upon  the  incred- 
ible idea  that  a  mistake  could  have  been  made 
between  the  two  men,  the  truth  percolated 
through  their  minds.  It  was  a  voluntary  sac- 
rifice. "  He  war  always  preachin'  agin  killm'," 
said  the  old  man,  "  an'  callin'  folks,"  his  voice 
fell  to  a  whisper  —  "  Cain !  " 

It  was  well  for  him,  perhaps,  when  he  pres- 
ently fell  into  mental  decrepitude,  and  in  va- 
cancy was  spared  the  anguish  of  remorse. 

And  Pete  fearfully  noted  the  fulfillment  of 
the  prophecy. 

No  one  could  account  for  the  change  in  Pete 
Cayce.  He  patched  up  old  feuds,  and  forgave 
old  debts,  and  forgot  his  contentious  moods,  and 
was  meek  and  very  melancholy.  And  although 


308  THE  PROPHET. 

the  parson  preached  no  more,  who  shall  say  his 
serm6ns  were  ended  ?  As  to  him,  surely  his 
doubts  were  solved  in  knowing  all,  and  perhaps 
in  the  exaltations  of  that  sacrificial  moment 
he  found  Christ. 

The  mystery  of  his  fate  remained  unex- 
plained. The  search  for  him  flagged  after  a 
time,  and  failed.  There  were  many  conjec- 
tures, all  wide  of  the  truth.  Dorinda  believed 
that,  like  the  prophet  of  old,  he  had  not  been 
suffered  to  taste  death,  but  was  caught  up  into 
the  clouds.  And  with  a  chastened  solemnity 
she  cherishes  the  last  of  her  illusions. 


of  fiction 

PUBLISHED  BY 

HOUGHTON,  MIFFLIN  AND  COMPANY, 

4  PARK  ST.,  BOSTON  ;  11  E.  I;TH  ST.,  NEW  YORK. 


Thomas  Bailey  Aldrich. 

Story  of  a  Bad  Boy.     Illustrated.     I2mo $1.50 

Marjorie  Daw  and  Other  People.     I2mo 1.50 

The  Same.     Riverside  Aldine  Series.     i6mo      .     .     .  i.oo 

Prudence  Palfrey.     I2mo 1.50 

The  Queen  of  Sheba.     I2mo 1.50 

The  Still  water  Tragedy.     I2mo 1.50 

Novels  and  Poems.  New  Uniform  Edition.  Com- 
prising Marjorie  Daw,  Prudence  Palfrey,  The  Queen 
of  Sheba,  The  Stillwater  Tragedy,  The  Story  of  a 
Bad  Boy,  and  Poems.  (Household Edition.)  The 

set,  six  volumes,  I2mo 9.00 

Hans  Christian  Andersen. 

Complete  Works.     In  ten  uniform  volumes,  crown  8vo. 
A  new  and  cheap  Edition,  in  attractive  binding. 

The  Improvisatore ;  or,  Life  in  Italy i.oo 

The  Two  Baronesses i.oo 

O.  T. ;  or,  Life  in  Denmark i.oo 

Only  a  Fiddler i.oo 

In  Spain  and  Portugal i.oo 

A  Poet's  Bazaar i.oo 

Pictures  of  Travel '.     .  i.oo 

The  Story  of  my  Life.     With  portrait i.oo 

Wonder  Stories  told  for  Children.     Illustrated  .     .     .  i.oo 

Stories  and  Tales.     Illustrated i.oo 

The  set 10.00 

William  Henry  Bishop. 

Detmold :  A  Romance.    "  Little  Classic  "  style.  i8mo  1.25 

The  House  of  a  Merchant  Prince.     I2mo  .     ...     .  1.50 

Choy  Susan,  and  other  Stories.     i6mo 1.25 


2  Works  of  Fiction  Published  by 

Bjornstjerne  Bjornson. 

Works.  American  Edition,  sanctioned  by  the  author, 
and  translated  by  Professor  R.  B.  Anderson,  of  the 
University  of  Wisconsin.  In  seven  volumes,  i6mo. 

Synnove  Solbakken. 

Arne. 

A  Happy  Boy. 

The  Fisher  Maiden. 

The  Bridal  March,  and  Other  Stories. 

Captain  Mansana,  and  Other  Stories. 

Magnhild. 

Each  volume $1.00 

The  Same.     In  three  volumes,  I2mo     ......    4.50 

Alice  Gary. 

Pictures  of  Country  Life.    I2mo  .     ,..,...     1.50 

John  Esten  Cooke. 

My  Lady  Pokahontas.    l6mo 1.25 

James  Fenimore  Cooper. 

Complete  Works.  New  Household  Edition,  in  attrac- 
tive binding.  With  Introductions  to  many  of  the 
volumes  by  Susan  Fenimore  Cooper,  and  Illustra- 
tions. In  thirty-two  volumes,  i6mo. 

Precaution.  The  Prairie. 

The  Spy.  Wept  of  Wish-ton-Wish. 

The  Pioneers.  The  Water  Witch. 

The  Pilot.  The  Bravo. 

Lionel  Lincoln.  The  Heidenmauer. 

Last  of  the  Mohicans.  The  Headsman. 

Red  Rover.  The  Monikins. 

Homeward  Bound.  Miles  Wallingford. 

Home  as  Found.  The  Red  Skins. 

The  Pathfinder.  The  Chainbearer. 

Mercedes  of  Castile.  Satanstoe. 

The  Deerslayer.  The  Crater. 

The  Two  Admirals.  Jack  Tier. 

Wing  and  Wing.  The  Sea  Lions. 

Wyandotte'.  Oak  Openings. 

Afloat  and  Ashore.  The  Ways  of  the  Hour. 

(Each  volume  sold  separately.} 

Each  volume i.oo 

The  set 32.00 

•alf  calf SOGO 


Houghton,  Mifflin  and  Company.  3 

New  Fireside  Edition.   With  forty-five  original  Illustra- 
tions by  Darley,  Dielman,  Fredericks,  Sheppard,  and 
Waud.    In  sixteen  volumes,  I2mo. 
The  set   ...     $20.00        Half  calf  ....  $45.00 
(Sold  only  in  sets.) 

Sea  Tales.    New  Household  Edition,  in  attractive  bind- 
ing, the  volumes  containing  Introductions  by  Susan 
Fenimore  Cooper.     Illustrated. 
First  Series.     Including  — 

The  Pilot.  The  Red  Rover. 

The  Water  Witch.  The  Two  Admirals. 

Wing  and  Wing. 

Second  Series.     Including  — 

The  Sea  Lions.  Afloat  and  Ashore. 

Jack  Tier.  Miles  Wallingford. 

The  Crater. 

Each  set,  5  vols.  i6mo  $5.00        Half  calf      .    .    .  12.50 

Leather-Stocking  Tales.  New  Household  Edition,  in 
attractive  binding,  the  volumes  containing  Introduc- 
tions by  Susan  Fenimore  Cooper.  Illustrated.  In 
five  volumes,  i6mo. 

The  Deerslayer.  The  Pioneers. 

The  Pathfinder.  The  Prairie. 

Last  of  the  Mohicans. 

The  set  .....  $5.00        Half  calf      .    .     .  12.50 

Cooper  Stories ;  being  Narratives  of  Adventure  se- 
lected from  his  Works.  With  Illustrations  by  F.  O. 
C.  Darley.  In  three  volumes,  i6mo,  each  ,  .  .  .  i.oo 

Thomas  Frederick  Crane. 

Italian  Popular  Tales.  Translated  from  the  Italian. 
With  Introduction  and  a  Bibliography.  8vo  .  .  .  2.50 

Charles  Egbert  Craddock. 

In  the  Tennessee  Mountains.     i6mo 1.25 

The  Prophet  of  the  Great  Smoky  Mountains.     i6mo  .  1.25 
Down  the  Ravine.    A  Story  for  Young  People.    Illus- 
trated.    i6mo i.oo 

F.  Marion  Crawford. 

To  Leeward.     i6mo 1.25 

A  Roman  Singer.     i6mo 1.25 

An  American  Politician.     i6mo 1.25 

Maria  S.  Cummins. 

The  Lamplighter.     I2mo .,.     .     1.50 

El  Fureidis.     I2mo 1.50 

Mabel  Vaughan.     i2mo 1.50 


4  Works  of  Fiction  Published  fy 

Daniel  De  Foe. 

Robinson  Crusoe.  Illustrations  by  Thomas  Nast  and 
E.  Bayard.  i6mo $1.00 

P.  Deming. 

Adirondack  Stories.     "  Little  Classic "  style.     i8mo  .      .75 
Tompkins  and  other  Folks i.oo 

Thomas  De  Quincey. 

Romances  and  Extravaganzas.      Riverside  Edition. 

I2mo I  «5O 

Narrative  and  Miscellaneous  Papers.     Riverside  Edi" 

tion,     I2mo 1.50 

Charles  Dickens. 

Complete  Works.  Illustrated  Library  Edition.  With 
Introductions,  biographical  and  historical,  by  E.  P. 
Whipple.  Containing  all  the  Illustrations  that  have 
appeared  in  the  English  edition  by  Cruikshank,  Phiz, 
Seymour,  John  Leech,  Maclise,  Marcus  Stone,  and 
others,  engraved  on  steel,  to  which  are  added  the  de- 
signs of  F.  O.  C.  Darley  and  John  Gilbert,  in  all  num- 
bering over  550.  Handsomely  bound,  and  complete 
in  twenty-nine  volumes,  I2mo. 

The  Pickwick  Papers,  2  vols.  Dombey  and  Son,  2  vols. 
Nicholas  Nickleby,  2  vols.      Pictures  from   Italy,  and 
Oliver  Twist.  American  Notes. 

Old  Curiosity  Shop,  and  Re-  Bleak  House,  2  vols. 

printed  Pieces,  2  vols.         Little  Dorrit,  2  vols. 
Barnaby  Rudge,  and  Hard    David  Copperfield,  2  vols. 

Times,  2  vols.  A  Tale  of  Two  Cities. 

Martin  Chuzzlewit,  2  vols.      Great  Expectations. 
Our  Mutual  Friend,  2  vols.    Edwin      Drood,     Master 
Uncommercial  Traveller.  Humphrey's  Clock,  and 

A  Child's  History  of  Eng-         Other  Pieces. 

land,  and  Other  Pieces.       Sketches  by  Boz. 
Christmas  Books. 

Each  volume 1.50 

The  set.     With  Dickens  Dictionary.     30  vols .     .  45.00 
Half  calf 100.00 

Globe  Edition.  Printed  in  large  type  (long  primer)  on 
good  paper,  and  containing  all  the  Illustrations  of 
Darley  and  Gilbert  (55  in  number)  on  steel,  and  the 
Index  of  Characters.  In  fifteen  volumes,  I2mo. 

Each  volume 1.25 

The  set .    .  18.75 

Half  calf,  or  half  morocco 40.00 


Houghton,  Mifflin  and  Company.  5 

Christmas  Carol.     Illustrated.    8vo,  full  gilt ....  $3.00 

Morocco 7«5o 

The  Same.     321110 75 

Christmas  Books.    Illustrated.     I2mo 2.00 

Morocco 5.00 

Edgar  Fawcett. 

A  Hopeless  Case.  "  Little  Classic "  style.  i8mo  .  1.25 
A  Gentleman  of  Leisure.  "  Little  Classic  "  style.  i8mo  i.oo 
An  Ambitious  Woman.  I2ino .  1.50 

Fdnelon. 

Adventures  of  Telemachus.     I2mo 2.25 

Harford  Flemming. 

A  Carpet  Knight.     i6mo 1.25 

Baron  de  la  Motte  Fouqu6. 

Undine,  Sintram  and  his  Companions,  with  St.  Pierre's 
"  Paul  and  Virginia,"  321110 75 

Undine  and  other  Tales.    Illustrated.     "Riverside 

Classics."     i6mo 1.00 

Johann  Wolfgang  von  Goethe. 

Wilhelm  Meister.    Translated  by  Thomas  Carlyle. 

Portrait  of  Goethe.     In  two  volumes.     121110      .     .     3.00 
The  Tale  and  Favorite  Poems.    321110 75 

Oliver  Goldsmith. 

Vicar  of  Wakefield.    Handy-Volume  Edition.    321110, 

gilt  top 1.25 

The  Same.    "  Riverside  Classics."   Illustrated.   i6mo     i.oo 

Jeanie  T.  Gould  (Mrs.  Lincoln). 

Marjorie's  Quest.     Illustrated.     12010 1.50 

Thomas  Chandler  Haliburton. 

The  Clockmaker ;  or,  The  Sayings  and  Doings  of 
Samuel  Slick  of  Slickville.  "  Riverside  Classics." 
Illustrated  by  Darley.  i6mo i.oo 

A.  S.  Hardy. 

But  Yet  a  Woman.     i6mo 1.25 

Miriam  Coles  Harris. 

Rutledge.  A  Perfect  Adonis. 

The  Sutherlands.  Missy. 

Frank  Warrington.  Happy-Go-Lucky. 

St.  Philips.  Phoebe. 

Richard  Vandermarck. 

Each  volume,  i6mo .    .    1.25 


6  Works  of  Fiction  Published  by 

Bret  Harte. 

The  Luck  of  Roaring  Camp,  and  Other  Sketches.  i6mo  $1.50 
The  Same.  Riverside  Aldine  Series.  i6mo  .  .  .  i.oo 
Mrs.  Skaggs's  Husbands,  and  Other  Sketches.  i6mo.  1.50 
Tales  of  the  Argonauts,  and  Other  Stories.  i6mo  .  1.50 
Thankful  Blossom.  "  Little  Classic "  style.  i8mo  .  1.25 
Two  Men  of  Sandy  Bar.  A  Play.  "  Little  Classic  " 

style.     i8mo i.oo 

The  Story  of  a  Mine.  "  Little  Classic  "  style.  i8mo  i.oo 
Drift  from  Two  Shores.  "Little  Classic"  style.  i8mo  1.25 
The  Twins  of  Table  Mountain,  and  Other  Sketches. 

"  Little  Classic  "  style.     i8mo 1.25 

Works.      Rearranged,  with  an  Introduction  and  a 

Portrait.     In  five  volumes,  crown  8vo. 
Poetical  Works,  and  the  drama,  "  Two  Men  of  Sandy 

Bar,"  with  an  Introduction  and  Portrait. 
The  Luck  of  Roaring  Camp,  and  Other  Stories. 
Tales  of  the  Argonauts  and  Eastern  Sketches. 
Gabriel  Conroy. 
Stories  and  Condensed  Novels. 

Each  volume 2.00 

The  set , 10.00 

Half  calf 20.00 

Flip,  and  Found  at  Blazing  Star.    "  Little  Classic  " 

style.     i8mo        i.oo 

In  the   Carquinez  Woods.     "  Little  Classic "  style. 

i8mo i.oo 

On  the  Frontier.  "  Little  Classic "  style.  i8mo  .  .  i.oo 
By  Shore  and  Sedge.  "Little  Classic  style."  i8mo.  i.oo 
Maruja.  A  Novel.  "  Little  Classic "  Style.  i8mo.  I.oo 

Nathaniel  Hawthorne, 

Works.  New  Riverside  Edition.  With  an  original 
etching  in  each  volume,  and  a  new  Portrait.  With 
bibliographical  notes  by  George  P.  Lathrop.  Com- 
plete in  twelve  volumes,  crown  8vo. 

Twice-Told  Tales. 

Mosses  from  an  Old  Manse. 

The  House  of  the  Seven  Gables,  and  the  Snow-Image. 

The  Wonder-Book,  Tanglewood  Tales,  and  Grand- 
father's Chair. 

The  Scarlet  Letter,  and  The  Blithedale  Romance. 

The  Marble  Faun. 

Our  Old  Home,  and  English  Note-Books.     2  vols. 

American  Note-Books. 

French  and  Italian  Note-Books. 


Hotighton,  Mifflin  and  Company,  7 

The  Dolliver  Romance,  Fanshawe,  Septimius  Felton, 

and,  in  an  Appendix,  the  Ancestral  Footstep. 
Tales,  Sketches,  and  Other  Papers.     With  Biograph- 
ical Sketch  by  G.  P.  Lathrop,  and  Indexes. 

Each  volume $2.00 

The  set 24.00 

Half  calf     .    .     .  $48.00        Half  crushed  levant   60.00 
"  Little   Classic "  Qdition.     Each  volume   contains  a 
new  Vignette  Illustration.     In  twenty-five  volumes, 
i8mo. 

Each  volume i.oo 

The  set 25.00 

Half  calf,  or  half  morocco   $62.50        Tree  calf  .   81.00 
A  Wonder-Book  for  Girls  and  Boys.     Holiday  Edi- 
tion.    With  Illustrations  by  F.  S.  Church.     4to  .     .     2.50 
Twice-Told  Tales.     School  Edition.     i8mo    ....     i.oo 
The  Scarlet  Letter.     Holiday  Edition.     Illustrated  by 
Mary  Hallock  Foote.     Red-line  border.     8vo,  full 

gilt 4.00 

Half  calf 6.00 

Morocco,  or  tree  calf 9.00 

Popular  Edition.     I2mo i.oo 

True  Stories  from  History  and  Biography.     I2mo      .      1.50 

The  Wonder-Book.     I2mo 1.50 

Tanglewood  Tales.     I2mo 1.50 

Tales  of  the  White  Hills,  and  Legends  of  New  Eng- 
land.   32mo 75 

Legends  of  Province  House,  and  A  Virtuoso's  Col- 
lection.    32mo 75 

High  Lights.     A  Novel.     i6mo 1.25 

Oliver  Wendell  Holmes. 

Elsie  Venner.     A  Romance  of  Destiny.     Crown  8vo .      2.00 

The  Guardian  Angel.     Crown  8vo 2.00 

The  Story  of  Iris.    321110 .75 

My  Hunt  after  the  Captain.     321110 40 

A  Mortal  Antipathy.    Crown  8vo 1.50 

Blanche  Willis  Howard. 

One   Summer.      A   Novel.   ."Little  Classic"  style.      1.25 
Holiday  Edition.    Illustrated  by  Hoppin.      Sq.  I2mo      2.50 

Augustus  Hoppin. 

Recollections  of  Auton  House.     Illustrated.     Small 

4to 1.25 

A  Fashionable  Sufferer.     Illustrated.     I2mo      ...  1.50 

Two  Compton  Boys.     Illustrated.     Square  i6mo  .    .  1.50 


8  Works  of  Fiction  Published  by 

William  Dean  Howells. 

Their  Wedding  Journey.  Illustrated.  I2mo  . 
The  Same.  Illustrated.  Paper  covers.  i6mo 
The  Same.  "  Little  Classic"  style.  i8mo  .  . 
A  Chance  Acquaintance.  Illustrated.  1 2mo  . 
The  Same.  Illustrated.  Paper  covers.  i6mo 
The  Same.  "  Little  Classic  "  style.  i8mo 


$1-50 

•5° 

1.25 

1.50 

•50 
25 


A  foregone  Conclusion.     I2mo 1.50 

The  Lady  of  the  Aroostook.     I2mo 1.50 

The  Undiscovered  Country.     I2mo       ......  1.50 

A  Day's  Pleasure,  etc.    32010 75 

Thomas  Hughes. 

Tom   Brown's  School-Days    at   Rugby.     Ittiistrated 

Edition.     l6mo l.oo 

Tom  Brown  at  Oxford.     i6mo 1.25 

Henry  James,  Jr. 

A  Passionate  Pilgrim,  and  Other  Tales.     I2mo.    .    .  2.00 

Roderick  Hudson.     I2mo 2.00 

The  American.     I2mo 2.00 

Watch  and  Ward.     "  Little  Classic "  style.     i8mo    .  1.25 

The  Europeans.     I2mo 1.50 

Confidence.     I2mo 1.50 

The  Portrait  of  a  Lady»     I2mo 2.00 

Anna  Jameson. 

Studies  and  Stories.     "  Little  Classic  "  style.     i8mo  .  1.50 

Diary  of  an  Ennuyee.    "  Little  Classic  "  style.    i8mo  .  1.50 

Douglas  Jerrold. 

Mrs.  Caudle's  Curtain  Lectures.    Illustrated.   "  River- 
side Classics.'1     i6mo i.co 

Sarah  Orne  Jewett 

Deephaven.     iSmo 1.25 

Old  Friends  and  New.    i8mo .  1.25 

Country  By-Ways.     i8mo 1.25 

The  Mate  of  the  Daylight.     i8mo 1.25 

A  Country  Doctor.     i6mo  .     .    .    0 1.25 

A  Marsh  Island.     i6mo 1.25 

Rossiter  Johnson. 

"  Little  Classics."    Each  in  one  volume.    i8mo. 
I.  Exile.  IV.  Life. 

II.  Intellect.  V.  Laughter. 

III.  Tragedy.  VI.  Love. 


Houghton,  Mifflin  and  Company.  9 

VII.  Romance.  XIII.  Narrative  Poems. 

VIII.  Mystery.  XIV.  Lyrical  Poems. 

IX.  Comedy.  XV.  Minor  Poems. 

X.  Childhood.  XVI.  Nature. 

XI.  Heroism.  XVII.  Humanity. 

XII.  Fortune.  XVIII.  Authors. 

Each  volume $1.00 

The  set 18.00 

Half  calf,  or  half  morocco 4S-OO 

The  Same.     In  nine  volumes,  square  i6mo. 

The  set 13.50 

Half  calf 27.00 

Tree  calf 40.50 

(Sold  only  in  sets.) 

Charles  and  Mary  Lamb. 

Tales  from  Shakespeare.     i8mo i.oo 

The  Same.     Illustrated.     i6mo i.oo 

The  Same.    Handy- Volume  Edition.    32mo,  gilt  top   .     1.25 

Henry  Wadsworth  Longfellow. 

Hyperion.     A  Romance.     i6mo 1.50 

Popular  Edition.     i6mo 40 

Popular  Edition.     Paper  covers,  i6mo 15 

Outre-Mer.     i6mo 1.50 

Popular  Edition.     l6mo .40 

Popular  Edition.     Paper  covers,  1 6mo 15 

Kavanagh.     i6mo 1.50 

S.  Weir  Mitchell. 

In  War  Time.     i6mo 1.25 

Nora  Perry. 

The  Tragedy  of  the  Unexpected,  and  Other  Stories. 
"  Little  Classic  "  style.     i8mo 1.25 

Elizabeth  Stuart  Phelps. 


The  Gates  Ajar.     i6mo 

Beyond  the  Gates.     i6mo     .    .    . 

Men,  Women,  and  Ghosts.     i6mo 

Hedged  In.     i6mo 

The  Silent  Partner.     i6mo  .    .    . 


•50 
25 

50 
50 

•So 
•50 
50 

25 
,25 
An  Old  Maid's  Paradise.     i6mo 50 

Marian  C.  L.  Reeves  and  Emily  Read. 

Pilot  Fortune.     iCmo 1.25 


The  Story  of  Avis.     i6mo    ..... 
Sealed  Orders,  and  Other  Stories.     i6mo , 

Friends  :  A  Duet.     i6mo 

Doctor  Zay.     i6mo 


IO  Works  of  Fiction  Published  by 

Riverside  Paper  Series. 

A  Series  of  Novels  by  the  best  American  Authors. 

1.  But  Yet  a  Woman.     By  A.  S.  Hardy. 

2.  Missy.     By  the  author  of  "  Rutledge." 

3.  The  Stillwater  Tragedy.     By  T.  B.  Aldrich. 

4.  Elsie  Venner.     By  O.  W.  Holmes. 

5.  An  Earnest  Trifler.     By  Mary  A.  Sprague. 

6.  The  Lamplighter.     By  Maria  S.  Cummins. 

7.  Their  Wedding  Journey.     By  W.  D.  Howells. 

8.  Married  for  Fun.     Anonymous. 

o.  An  Old  Maid's  Paradise.     By  Elizabeth  Stuart 
Phelps. 

10.  The  House  of  a  Merchant  Prince.     By  W.  H. 

Bishop. 

11.  An  Ambitious  Woman.     By  Edgar  Fawcett. 

12.  Marjorie's   Quest.      By  Jeanie  T.   Gould   (Mrs. 

Lincoln). 

13.  Hammersmith.     By  Mark  Sibley  Severance. 

Each  volume,  i6mo,  paper  covers $  .50 

Joseph  Xavier  Boniface  Saintine. 

Picciola.    "  Riverside  Classics."     Illustrated.    i6mo .     i.oo 

Jacques  Henri  Bernardin  de  Saint-Pierre. 

Paul  and  Virginia.   "  Riverside  Classics."   Illustrated. 

i6mo       i.oo 

The  Same,  together  with  Undine,  and  Sintram.   321110      .75 

Sir  Walter  Scott. 

The  Waverley  Novels.  Illustrated  Library  Edition. 
This  edition  has  been  carefully  edited,  and  is  illus- 
trated with  loo  engravings  by  Darley,  Dielman, 
Fredericks,  Low,  Share,  Sheppard,  and  has  also  a 
glossary  and  a  very  full  index  of  characters.  In  25 
volumes,  I2mo. 

Waverley.  The  Pirate. 

Guy  Mannering.  The  Fortunes  of  Nigel. 

The  Antiquary.  Peveril  of  the  Peak. 

Rob  Roy.  Quentin  Durward. 

Old  Mortality.  St.  Ronan's  Well. 

Black  Dwarf,  and  Legend      Redgauntlet. 
of  Montrose.  The  Betrothed,  and  the 

Heart  of  Mid-Lothian.  Highland  Widow. 

Bride  of  Lammermoor.  The  Talisman,  and  Other 

Ivanhoe  Tales. 

The  Monastery.  Woodstock. 

The  Abbot.  The  Fair  Maid  of  Perth. 

Kenilworth.  Anne  of  Geierstein. 


Hoiighton,  Mifflin  and  Company.          1 1 

Count  Robert  of  Paris.          The  Surgeon's  Daughter, 
and  Castle  Dangerous. 

Each  volume $1.00 

The  set 25.00 

Half  calf 62.50 

Half  seal 75.00 

Globe  Edition.     Complete  in  13  volumes.     With  100 
Illustrations.     i6mo. 

The  set    . 16.25 

Half  calf,  or  half  morocco 3S'°° 

(Sold  only  in  sets. ) 

Tales  of  a  Grandfather.     Illustrated  Library  Edition. 
With  six  steel  plates.     In  three  volumes,  I2mo  .     .     4.50 

Half  calf 9.00 

Ivanhoe.     Fancy  binding.    8vo i.oo 

Half  calf 2.50 

Horace  E.  Scudder. 

The  Dwellers  in  Five-Sisters'  Court.     i6mo  ....     1.25 
Stories  and  Romances.     i6mo 1.25 

Mark  Sibley  Severance. 

Hammersmith :  His  Harvard  Days.     I2mo   .    .     .    .     1.50 

J.  E.  Smith. 

Oakridge  :  An  Old-Time  Story  of  Maine.     I2mo   .    .     2.00 

Mary  A.  Sprague. 

An  Earnest  Trifler.     i6mo 1.25 

William  W.  Story. 

Fiammetta.     i6mo 1.25 

Harriet  Beecher  Stowe. 


Agnes  of  Sorrento.     I2mo   .     .     . 
The  Pearl  of  Orr's  Island.     I2mo 


Uncle  Tom's  Cabin.      Popular  Illustrated  Edition. 

I2mo  ....     2.00 


The  Minister's  Wooing.     I2mo 

The  Mayflower,  and  Other  Sketches.     I2mo      .     .    . 

Dred.     I2mo 

Oldtown  Folks.     I2mo 

Sam  Lawson's   Fireside    Stories.     Illustrated.    New 


•50 
•5° 
•5° 
•5° 

•50 
•So 
•5° 
•5° 
The  above  eleven  volumes,  In  box  ......  16.50 


Edition,  enlarged 

My  Wife  and  I.  Illustrated.  I2mo  .  .  . 
We  and  Our  Neighbors.  Illustrated.  I2mo 
Poganuc  People.  Illustrated.  I2mo  .  .  . 


12  Works  of  Fiction. 

Uncle  Tom's  Cabin.  Holiday  Edition.  With  red  line 
border,  Introduction,  and  a  Bibliography  by  George 
Bullen,  of  the  British  Museum.  Over  100  Illustra- 
tions. I2mo $3-5O 

Half  calf 6.00 

Morocco,  or  tree  calf 7.50 

The  Same.    Popular  Edition.     I2mo i.oo 

Gen.  Lew  Wallace. 

The  Fair  God ;  or,  The  Last  of  the  'Tzins.     I2mo  .     1.50 

Henry  Watterson. 

Oddities  in  Southern  Life  and  Character.  Illustrated. 
i6mo 1.50 

Richard  Grant  White. 

The  Fate  of  Mansfield  Humphreys,  together  with  the 
Episode  of  Mr.  Washington  Adams  in  England. 
i6mo 1.25 


Adeline  D.  T.  Whitney. 

Faith  Gartney's  Girlhood.     Illustrated.     I2mo  . 
Hitherto :  A  Story  of  Yesterdays.     I2mo      .    . 


•50 
•50 
•50 
•50 
•SO 
•50 
•50 
•5° 
Sights  and  Insights.  2  vols.  I2mo 3.00 


Patience  Strong's  Outings.     I2mo 

The  Gayworthys.     I2mo 

Leslie  Goldthwaite.     Illustrated.     I2mo    .    .    . 
We  Girls  :  A  Home  Story.     Illustrated.     I2mo 

Real  Folks.     Illustrated.     I2mo 

The  Other  Girls.     Illustrated.     I2mo   .... 


Odd,  or  Even  ?     I2mo 

Boys  at  Chequasset.     Illustrated.     I2mo 

Bonnyborough.     I2mo 


50 
•SO 
•50 


The  above  thirteen  volumes  in  box 


*#*  For  sale  by  all  Booksellers.  Sent,  post-paid,  on  receipt  of  price  (in 
check  on  Boston  or  New  York,  money-order,  or  registered  letter)  by  the 
Publishers* 

HOUGHTON,  MIFFLIN  AND  COMPANY, 

4  PARK  ST.,  BOSTON,  MASS.  ;  1  1  EAST  SEVENTEENTH  ST 
NEW  YORK. 

A  Catalogue  containing  portraits  of  many  of  the  above  authors, 
with  a  description,  of  their  works,  will  be  sent  free,  on  application, 
to  any  addrtss. 


THE  UNIVERSITY  LIBRARY 
UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA,  SANTA  CRUZ 

This  book  is  due  on  the  last  DATE  stamped  below. 


100m-8,'65(F6282s8)2373 


